Up at 8am, as if I hadn't flown out of the country yesterday. It almost feels normal. Almost feels like another day. Except instead of waking up, and nearly kicking Zorro in the face, or awaking abruptly to his cat cries for food, it's silent. It was the quiet shuffling, and remnants of cigarette smoke from Emilie's daily routine that lingered in the air.

Apple sauce, bread with butter, and these small linear raisin muffin type treats are what's for breakfast. Light, good, Parisian for sure. Reminded of what it was like living here 6 years ago. Small refrigerator to house small portions.

Today will be my first official full day in the city and I intend for it to be a stroll down memory lane. Old flat, old school, old Parisian stomping grounds. This part of the three weeks is entirely more personal for me than I think people realize. It's a time for solitude, reflection, and seeking answers to questions that could only be posed here.

Looking forward to the day...