My mom and I are going to Paris in June. We have our flights booked and now we are exploring places to stay. I look at one of my computer screens at a tiny picture of a room or a spot marked on a map. And as I look the room I am in disappears and I am walking down and up big streets and small streets and garden paths. And it is that glorious time of year when light lasts longest and I can walk through mornings and afternoons and evenings.
Sometimes I am people watching in a park. I could be in a cafe but more often I am wide eyed in front of some achingly beautiful display in a patisserie or a fruit shop. Or in small streets so crowded with people that it is hard to get a good look at the shops. I wait patiently for the clearest view of a painting or wonder at the play of curve and flat and light in one of the Rodin statues in a garden. This is Paris.
So even the tiny pictures of rooms in small hotels are memories of things that have and haven't been on streets I have or haven't walked and it will be some time more before I have walked far enough to choose just one.