Paris : my second home

Each time I’m in Paris , I have my routine. Breakfast at Boulangerie St Michael, ordering a menu complete with cafe creama, fresh  orange juice, and pan au chocolate. 

Perhaps a toursadde. I take a brief stroll on the back alley to Shakespeare and Company bookstore, where I journal and dream. The key is to get here at 10 am , right when the bookstore opens, and the store is quiet and lacking cameras.

 The rest of the day then never matters. I have been to Paris enough where I don’t have to take in the tourist obligatory sites of the Eiffel Tower , Louvre, or even he Notre Dame (although I can see it from the upstairs enclave of the bookstore ). My lunch may tend to include homemade Asian noodles at Les Pates Vivantes.
This is my routine I have done almost each day I am in Paris. This has been my third trip here in the past 9 months. It’s been comforting to see the familiar faces of the workers at these three haunts of mine. Although I don’t live in Paris, these three places have become my Paris. It’s almost a second home. My French has not improved at all, I still can only pronounce less than 10 phrases. But I may be getting the French attire down, ensuring I wear red lipstick to pop out of my classic casual denim, black, white, and pale pink. I feel comfortable here despite the language barrier. And I feel at ease and encouraged to push my creative boundaries.
A coworker of mine looking at my Facebook posts noted that it looks like I stepped out of England and into a dream.

 I have only been gone 5 days, but somehow in France time is transient. A missed opportunity arose in that I could not walk the labyrinth in Chartres. I was disappointed, but I easily know I will be back within the year.

It’s comforting to feel this and know that Paris is like a second home. And my three closest friends here (two restaurants and a bookshop) will be here to greet me when I return

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