No more flies in my bedroom

The only good thing about this American Airlines flight are the seats' built in pillows. Which are ridiculously comfortable given the plush leather (fine, pleather) melds to shape your head. 

That and the fact I only got two hours of sleep, last night. I've been falling in and out of sleep throughout this nine hour flight. A nine-hour flight that, I should mention, comes without in-flight entertainment.

Right, no personal screens for passengers. And the ones fitted into the airplane ceiling are broken. But what airline offers shared viewing pleasure for a transatlantic flight anyway?

Maybe they'll give us air miles as compensation. Could go back into the save- to- come- back- to- Paris- piggy- bank- of- desperate- miles.

_______________________
I left early this morning-- 5.30 am early. The streets were quiet, the air, warm-- a cool trace to the early morning breeze. I felt as if I were sneaking out—before the bustle of the day began, nagging at every bit of yearning desire I had to stay.

So casual sneak out was probably better.
 

I don’t know how I feel about this trip back. I hate that I've left. I know I had to. There’s a sense of numbness to the emotions that have built up ever since it finally settled that this-- the experience, my summer-- was nearing finish.

It’s better that I’m heading to Miami before my return to D.C. The district is incredible and it wouldn’t be fair to compare it to Paris. As for Miami? Well it loses regardless of whether or not I compare it to Paris. 

I'm looking forward to hugging my 8- year- old brother. I'm looking forward to playing Scrabble with him— aware he'll likely thrash me at first shot.

I wish my window at home didn’t only open upwards and that I could the city noises from my room. And I wish there weren't a netting on the outside of my window—Florida’s solution for blocking the bugs from flying in.


I remember so vividly the first time I found flies in my room in Paris, during the summer; it had been three flies that circled the open space of my room. And I desperately tried swatting them back outside, making a racket as Alexi peered into my room to see what was going on. He joined me in my ridiculous attempt, the two of us waving our arms as we tried getting the flies back out the window. 

Until we both gave up. I eventually came to terms with having flies in my room. Because it wasn’t like I was going to close that window; I loved the sound of the movement below. 

I'm going to miss my mornings. Of buying a baguette from a boulangerie— of walking through Luxembourg and up Rue Vavin on my way to work.

You can walk all of Paris. It's incredible. What a funny idea once it translates to Miami. You'd pass out of dehydration from the hours it would take to walk from A to B. Except A would be our supermarket and B would the movies. Because in South Florida suburbia, there really isn't anywhere else to go.

I'm sad I won’t speak French daily anymore. It's been the most amazing of challenges that's truly left with me a real surge of accomplishment, six months later.

And I'm going to miss the friends. It truly moved me receiving the few texts from my French friends, wishing me well as I folded the page of this Parisian chapter, heading back to the states and stepping back into the life I had left behind. I recall the flood of goodbyes that I had received, the day I had left D.C. I'm lucky to have the friends to say goodbye to—be it D.C., Miami or Paris. I place such value in people—the power of another in enriching an experience and their touch in leaving you connected. I'm grateful for the connections, for the friends, and now, for the memories.

I don't know how good of a plan it is to go back to sleep. There are three hours left of this flight and I don’t want to be jet lagged, come tomorrow.

Tomorrow in Florida. 

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