On the move.


I stood on the balcony last night and enjoyed the first quiet moment I've had to myself in a while, having a cigar I bought earlier in the day in Provence, and looking out at Paris. Across the street, through two open windows there was an apartment where colored lights were flashing and a mix of French and American rock music were blasting. In the first window, two guys were drinking wine from the bottle, and in the second window, two lovers were swing dancing. On the street, a guy in a leather jacket was running down the street, lit cigarette in mouth, in a hurry to get somewhere.

I know where I'll be and about what I need to be doing come summer, and I'm pretty fine with it. I know where I'll be next academic year, what I'll be working on, and about how I'll probably be living my life, and I'm pretty fine with it. After that, I could end up just about anywhere doing just about anything, and I'm pretty fine with that. For the first time I can remember, I don't feel tied down to any particular place or any particular person, although there are people and places around the world that I have strong feelings for.