#1

I was taking a shower today and listening to Coldplay playing from my record player. As I wrapped a towel around my body, I stopped and just stared blankly. Only I wasn’t thinking about just nothing. I was thinking about that metro ride in Paris. My headphones in my ears and I was people watching. Going to school, learning a new language, a new culture. I remember walking through the metro with the soundtrack to my life blaring as I took steps further to the top where the city lay.

It’s a weird thing. When I think of my time in Paris, I mostly think about the metro. Its simplicity. It’s dirty cars, masses of people and homeless people with no legs begging for money. I’m pretty sure I spent as much time on underground the City of Light as I did walking its streets. And the times on the metro with new friends — friends from school and friends who spoke French fluently — was a time I will never forget. We were hazy and drunk from the mojitos and we were on to our next destination. I felt the closeness of him. His face inches from mine and the captivating spell that takes you over when you stay in Paris long enough.

It was, in fact, a dream of eternal happiness. Amid the cultural differences and struggles of missing home, I learned to embrace the peculiar. And on my last night, tears were flooding my eyes as I sat next to my new best friend. Our heads touched as the car jolted us from side to side. We spoke of our sadness and happiness, intertwined like never before. And we knew forever that we truly touched — or scratched — a surface of this world. We dangled our feet above the Seine, we walked on tightropes and danced until our bodies ached. We lived. And then the metro stopped. And it was time to recede from our moments and carry them with us for eternity.