It is a rainy Saturday morning in Paris…

Standard

It is a regular rainy day in Paris, nothing different, nothing unusual, nothing outstanding. People are walking to the bakeries down the street to get their croissants, others are reading the newspaper in the same seat they sat in for years in their favourite cafe, some younger folks are still recovering from the aftermath of last night. As usual, there is a wave of tourists getting on with their days, taking tours, waiting in line for museums and cathedrals or about to take their bateau-mouche ride in the Seine.

Except that for her, it is her last Saturday morning in Paris. She is not a tourist but she doesn’t live here either, not anymore in any case. It is not the first time, that she is in this limbo state but regardless it does not get any easier to handle.

Especially that, Paris is a place you simply fall in love with and never want to leave again. It is one of those rare places that consumes you as much as you consume it, that wows you in every corner, on every street and in every building. It is a city that just happens while you are being. In Paris, all you need to do is look up, left, or right and sometimes just behind you and you will find something pretty, something charming, something fascinating.

That captivating life in Paris has captivated her and after a year; the thought of leaving just doesn’t ring right. Somehow, she belongs here and leaving is just premature, yet it has to happen. The long-time of a year doesn’t seem that long anymore and it really sets a different perspective on time that suddenly looses its significance.

A year is not that long after all, there is only one of each month in a year and there is a lot to learn and see and enjoy in Paris.

Despite all that, choosing what to do in her last Saturday in Paris does not seem all that important. Saturday is just a day, after all and somehow, despite the uncertainty she knows there will be many other Saturdays to come.

It won’t be next Saturday nor the one after nor in the next two months, heck, it may not even be in the next 5 months but it will come again soon and sooner than she realizes.

She is, after all, a constant variable.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s