The days are a healthy balance of work and pleasure and I find myself very happy here.
But I still have a constant craving, a yearning in my belly for a warm croissant and a strong black cafe on a patio outside in France.
The summer months always make me yearn for my second home, where I have spent many sun drenched days walking country hills and indulging on sweet seasonal plums.
I am craving the slow days of the South of France and some faster days window gazing in Paris.
For now I don't want to be anywhere but here, but it won't be too long until France whispers my name again.
'I just made love to an almond croissant. We skipped the small talk. I picked it up from the local Patisserie, and held tight all the way home. Should we do it in the park? No, no, I wanted it in my apartment, lying on a plate, and enjoyed in privacy. I could barely contain myself. As I crossed the street the weight in my hand whispered to my taste buds the pleasure that was to come. It was so much heavier than a plain croissant, it’s body full of rich filling, it’s outside smothered in slivered almonds and icing sugar. We took the stairs, if only to prolong the excitement. Once we were back in the apartment I undressed it from it’s paper packaging. I set it out on a plate, grabbed a knife, and took it to my bed. I opened it up, the soft, buttery, marzipan filling exposed. I cut off pieces and sent them into my mouth. Every bite was better than the last. Every taste exploded in my mouth. I tried to push away other thoughts and focus all my attention on my pastry. Eventually I finished every bit of its long body, the sweetness still lingering on my tongue. It’s gone now. We never said goodbye. But I know we’ll meet again.'
-A piece of writing from when I was living in Paris