The days are growing longer. On rare occasion a hint of spring passes through the still frigid air. I remain warm within my expansive thoughts. I am in the midst of redefining myself in the context of a French life. Did I think it would be this difficult to leave behind the comforts and familiarities of a city which had become my home for over a decade? To bid farewell to my old self who knew so much and so many and made such an intimidating city feel so intimate? I recall so well the first few years of NYC, the growing pains involved in assembling the many pieces that create a life. And here in Paris, the puzzle appears much more difficult to piece together. Mostly due to the fact that the instructions are illegible. I remain perplexed as to how exactly things and people function here. The extreme formality and sense of order do not always appeal to me. Even the vagabonds seem well-mannered. Perhaps I am accustomed to a greater diversity that cannot be defined. A place where possibilities are endless and nothing is impossible. Once upon a time I was taught to dream. And now? As I attempt to redefine myself, an American girl raised with European sensibilities, I feel more American than I ever did in the USA, and even more so a dreamer. Simply, I must now learn to dream in French.

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