Lunch on the Seine
Sometimes I wake up a bit confused I'm not in our Berlin apartment. It takes a few seconds and then, instead of being upset, I'm content because I slept better than I have in years. I rush to get ready, don't have enough time to pack a lunch so quickly pick a handful of cherry tomatoes to eat on my commute to work accompanied by classical 89, my jam. We're home. And it's good. Better than I thought it'd be. And I think it's better because we left in the first place.