postcards from Paris

(on possibility)

All through lockdown, I dreamed of Paris.

Suddenly, it was the only place I wanted to be. The walls closed in, and I stayed up late with my husband, watching episode after episode of Call My Agent and The Hookup Plan — wistfully wishing for long, sunny boulevards, for coffees in tiny cafes and aperitifs in neighbourhood bars. In the past, we had been to …