The ride from Amsterdam to Paris was a long one; exceptionally unpleasant, too. The train's air conditioner stopped working halfway through; the conductor stopped the train in an attempt to restore it; he was unsuccessful, four times over; our arrival time was delayed by one hour and countless beads of sweat; fin. I hadn't thought I could be any more eager to be in Paris again. I was.
Rachael, Lorelei, and I were reunited in/with Paris.
the original Rosa Bonheur marked my first night out as a Paris resident. Our chosen happy hour spot was, thus, perfectly "full circle". And as we discussed how wonderfully ordinary it felt to be in the City of Lights again, over a casual spread of charcuterie, cheese, and rosé, Rachael and I felt a push. A man sitting on our bench but with the group at the table behind us was making room for himself with complete disregard for our presence and entitlement. We laughed. Yes, sir, we were back.
to Glass, to Le Grand Pigalle. We reveled in the relief of the familiar. We clinked glasses to Paris, and to us.