I find rest in my soul– here in Paris.
Is it the rhythm of the city that pulls me?
What is it about being in France that makes everyone behave like a flaneur?
I spend the evenings walking.. walking… walking.
There is no end [to it]
And I am happy
There is an absence of fear
No requirement bearing down on this body and soul to obey.
A feeling of freedom and direction.
The unfamiliar here and yet, here I thrive: in work, in thoughts, in presence, in health.
There is the sense of this shell being filled with something warm and something akin to the stuff of love,