To take Paris by surprise on a misty winter morning when the tourists are still munching their croissants at the hotel buffets and the salesmen just opening their stalls by the river is a rare bliss. To sit upstairs Shakespeare and Company surrounded by stories and a humming cat sleeping by my side or walking by the river with a cup of coffee warming my hands as the streets above start to fill with voices that soon grow into the usual hustle. To find a piece of gold and let it go. To listen to the sounds of an accordion echoing from the alleyways. Just to be, there, a part of it.