Wanderlust

Hoards pass through at all times of the day. All programmed for a destination but none of them know where they are going. Tall suits and smart ties, determined heels and pushy skirts, phones glued to their ears, frosty eyes glued to screens, in and out, the station resembled a bitter mass production line. Where they are really going? Just bodies, taking up time’s space. I was like that once. Now, I knew what matters. It only took a day, a person, a sentence.

Paris was where I realised what matters. The first few wintery days I walked triumphantly filling my wet shopping bags with an avalanche of clothes from Les Champs Elysée, bought with the cold hard cash from my internship. I really thought I was getting somewhere in the world. It’s a pity I hated every minute of that cold job, but it didn’t even occur to me that I didn’t have to do it. I guess it just seemed expected.

I’ll never forget the day my usual route to the icy building where my dreary work awaited was interrupted. I became distracted by the flamboyant cries I heard as I was walking beside the River Seine. Their voices, feet and hands, making a joyous noise. Why? My eyes couldn’t move off one of them in particular. Then, I felt his gaze on me, watching me watching him; it felt like a bolt of electric light piercing through my body. Dumbfounded, continued to stare at the group, who suddenly were approaching me. Soon, flashes of colour, red green yellow and blue filled my vision. They didn't notice the rain, skirts swirling on the swaying dancers, the colours blending into one cosy dream, I forgot the cold that lay beyond their warmth. Entrusted into their dancing circle I asked, “What is all this for?” “For …happiness” he responded.

For once I felt warm. I continued to walk with them. The simplicity of his answer made me review my life, and take stock. That is the only reason for being, that is all that matters. The sky turned a rosy pink colour, the weak winter sun no longer bore its weak rays. The River Seine ran along beside me. Her burning blue fading into a subtle grey by the sinking sun. Her quiet ripples gently chugged away, downstream. I wanted to be like her. Live like the river. Take whatever comes your way as it comes; don’t plan too much, because you never know what’s around the corner.
Finally the bus pulls in and my mind settles back into reality. I push past the waves of people, and silently remember to never be like them again. Paris changed me, travelling made me see.