A State of Mind

Some have remarked that I am going to be a fish out of water in Paris. Perhaps, but maybe the city will welcome me with open arms. I cannot walk into my new life with the fear that the city will expel me. It would be as if I entered a match or a battle with the decision that I had already lost; that my defeat had already been made up in my mind. How could you ever triumph over anything if you thought you would loose before you ever started?

And so I envision a beautiful image of life in France before I even arrive. I set the stage in my mind. The architecture of the city alone is the perfect backdrop for my dreams. I have an idea of what I want my existence to feel like. It’s as if my thoughts are judged by my senses. I warm to the idea of walking the streets of Paris. I tingle at the thought of taking photographs of people dressed in gorgeous clothing as they stroll past me or of buildings towering above. My mouth waters when I imagine the food that I will taste. My heartbeat quickens at the thought of running around the Seine for exercise. My eyes mist when the realization that I am moving there hits me.

I want to write in Paris. I want to write about the city and create stories that take place there. I want the pulse of the city to run through my sentences. My paragraphs. I want to know Paris through my own words and images. I want to study its landscape, as if my stories are Oxford dissertations. I want and I am going to have it.