from Paris: departures

Goodbyes, separations, departures, transitions -- I dislike all of them.

My daughter flies home on Wednesday and the only nice thing about it is that she will be rejoining others, who have been waiting patiently for her return.

Tuesday was spent on strolling, admiring (Paris. Foods. Stores. Architecture. Obviously.) and photo taking.

None of the photos are of the usual stuff. They are of faces rather than places. One is now on the sidebar of Ocean, the other – here you are, this is us, eating lunch.





She boards a plane, I board a train. Nine hours later she’ll be in Chicago, seven hours later, I’ll be in Nice. She’s got work to do, I’ve got work to do.

She wont post, but I will. From Nice.