The plush red leather seats contour to my arching, aching back. The weight is removed from my feet and they feel light again. Coffee in hand, I relax in the thought of knowing what I can do next. My hands know the way like they've done it a thousand times. They have.
Opening the cover and turning the pages one by one, I relax into my dream. No one, nothing can disturb me. I'm in limbo. Somewhere between reality and the self created dream space that allows me to escape to a place that will soon become my day to day life. Paris.
Falling into my seat each time in my work break, a new Paris travel guide allows me to size up and scope out the overall best places to eat, drink, dance, play, relax, to anything.
I escape from my known, my consciousness and enter a life I will soon own. I admire the pictures, staring at them for ages, burning them into my memory until they don't know how to leave. The blend of french and english words gifts me with a cosmopolitan vibe I will soon authentically experience. I look at the maps, this way and that, believing that if I stare at it long enough I can walk the streets in my mind. Know the direct route from the Moulin Rouge to the Latin Quartier. I read the list of gardens, cafes, bookshops and boutique stores of every arrondisement until my eyes can barely focus.
Break time is over.
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