Ep. 18 – Randomnimities, Parisian Pigeons and Postponed Pleasures

I live in an apartment the size of a shoebox. As do most 20 something interns living in Paris on their own. I left my apartment around 10:30am, after watching new episodes of Master Of None season 2. I presumably finished the season in just 2 days. There’s just certain things on which I don’t think you need to postpone your pleasure. This show is one of them.

It was very windy, but it wasn’t cold. It was sunny, but it wasn’t hot. All-in-all, a type of weather I can get my head around. The wind made a mess of my hair, which I hadn’t really put much effort in anyway, contenting myself to tuck most of it under a light, grey turtle neck sweater before running out the door (because I can).

My earphones were in my ears, but I was just listening to the sound of the trees whispering through the wind, as I made my way down Rue Raymond Pointcarré. The aerial movements, pushing me forward, then backwards, then no direction at all, haulting suddenly at a still. Passing a pigeon eating someone’s old cookie on the side walk, and friends enjoying café en terrasse under the early summer sun.

It wasn’t Sunday, but it sure felt like it. Everything and everyone seemed quite calm. I was at my favorite place to be on my days off: Starbucks. Writing, working on my last school projects, my business plans, and talking on the phone with Cat. Basically, I had turned the franchise into my personal office for the past 6 months.

I arrived at the coffee shop at ten minutes to 11. I stood in line for 3 minutes, and ordered in 1 and a half. I think. It took me some time to decide what I wanted. Knowing I was going to be there for a few hours, I ordered two cappuccinos: one hot, one iced, which was covered in milk froth, due to my usual barista’s amazingly awkward drink preparing skills. Realising how annoying it may be, or not be, I asked ahead of time if they were sugar free, having watched hours of documentaries, which enabled me to develop a sense of paranoia about the amount of sugar I introduced into my body on a daily basis.

I sat at a small round table, too small for anything productive to happen on. The indian guy at the larger round table next to me, was sitting hunched over, not over the table, but with his elbows on his knees, barely aware of the table at all. He was on his phone, with earphones in his ears listening to loud music, frantically fascinated by his digital occupation. When he left, I scootched over to his table, over the dark burgundy leather seats.

I finished reading an article I had started reading at home before I left, and before I decided that I needed some fresh air and caffeine. By the time I finished my article, all that was left of my iced cappuccino was melted ice cubes in a puddle of coffee stained milk.

After spending an hour trying to explain the current political phenomenon to myself, I realised there wasn’t enough drafts I could write, that could explain the current political environment. Confusion and nonsense were the main themes.

I took a break from thinking about unthinkable things, and looked at some photographs I had taken. I inserted my 32GB Sandisk into my Mac Book Pro, and scrolled through raw images on a brightly lit screen.

I left the coffee shop to cook a fresh, homemade, sugar-free lunch. On my way home, I find myself walking at the same pace as a short, greyish-white haired man smoking a wooden pipe. He wore a matching brown bag and brown shoes, blue jeans and a navy blue suit vest.

The rest of the day was spent alternating between reading, working and watching TV shows, before heading to the gym for an evening workout session

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