Le dernier jour

Last day in Paris. And boy is this weird. I can barely believe I'm leaving my city, the one place on this planet I call home. The welling up of emotions damn near paralyses me, and it feels like a dam holding back the memories of the last 12 years spent here is cracking, spraying bits and pieces of recollected life all over me as I walk along cobbled streets or look at buildings that I know I won't be looking at again with an insider's eye for a long time, if at all.

One face keeps coming back at me. And no matter how much I try to push her away, she's there, damn it. What does it take to kill chagrin? In the interests of pushing memories of her away again, I shan't dwell on it here. I'll leave that for another time when I feel strengthened from my South American sojourn, when I can prose on her from a distance. Not there yet.

Another big change. This makes the third or fifth in my life, the way I count them. This is walking through a door and knowing that you're being redefined -- again -- by doing so. The thrill is heady, scary and sort of mystical.

My flight leaves tomorrow. Early. A long swoop across the Atlantic, and there I'll be, in Sampa as the natives apparently call it. Saturday night in Sampa.....