au revior Paris, bon jour Singapour.

I didn’t know that I will actually miss Paris this much – the pace, the sights, the gardens, the food and the people. Finished reading Stephen Clarke’s “A Year in the Merde” and it made me actually wanting to be caught in the middle of the merde. I think I became a little too Parisian for my own good.

While sitting at the garden near the Lourve, I find myself critising the effects of capitalism and how the throngs of tourists actually spoil the whole atmosphere. Being a socialist doesn’t seem taboo to me anymore – it is perfectly okay to sit down and soak up the little sun during your lunch break. The capitalist will be rushing about, trying to gain time by wolfing down his lunch while updating himself with the latest financial news etc etc.

Taking a slow meal at Cafe de la Paix, I think I have finally adapted to the Parisian’s way of eating – slow and relaxed, eating each mouthful of food that remains on your plate. Well it does help that the food is really expensive, so you had better sit back and enjoy every morsel that goes into your mouth.

Upon arriving home, I rediscovered all the muscle memory leading to the lights of my room, the stairs, the porch, the toilet and the kitchen. While things seem vaguely familiar, I still felt like a dolphin in a shallow pool – being in the grey area between comfort and discomfort.

Pressure starting to build up again, with expectations and hopes being raised up like the sail, with hopes that it will catch some wind, and perhaps the boat will start to move with her at the helm. I think I will take the life boat with the oars, and row the other direction instead.

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