Quite simply, I was in love with Paris. I do not mean love in any colloquial way. I mean that I was in love with the city, the way you love the first person who ever touches you and you never love anyone quite that way again. But here I am, instead of there. Here I am drinking a coffee and writing nonsense on this page I know will float in the bathroom sink tomorrow morning. I try not to remember the life I didn't want to lose but did and now have to remember. I try to forget. But this smell I'm drowning in always brings me back.