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,

purpose,

vision.