As I type this, I am alone in my quaint little hotel room in Hotel Le Regent in Paris, hearing my own typing in the keyboard, my own asthmatic breath, and absolutely nothing else. I bask in my solitude, appreciating the silence that accompanies it. I could blast on my iTunes or Spotify playlist, turn on the TV and watch French news, or open the window to eavesdrop on my Parisian neighbors and hear how they argue, but I choose not to. Sometimes all you need is a little peace and quiet. The sunlight peeking in through the curtain is tempting me to go outdoors, but my feet are tired from all the walking, and my stomach is punishing me for all the crêpes, duck fat and exotic sea snails I’ve been stuffing it with the past few days. So I will sit here instead and write.
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