Legends from our own lunchtimes

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Wandering aimlessly through parts of the city familiar and not, did nothing to soften our resolve to spend a lot more time here. It's seems to be like some sort of addiction, the more we have of it, the more we need, but for now we had been away for too long and home beckoned.

We both experienced the faintest flutter of butterflies in our stomach as we boarded the express to Nancy. This was interesting, perhaps even remarkable as for a few years neither of us have had a sense of "homecoming" nor even "adventure" during our travels, just a feeling that we were on another leg of our continuing journey, yet now we were wishing the journey away.

There was no need for that of course, the train was quite happy to convey us at far greater speed than any supercar owner could contemplate.   For a brief moment I felt sorry for the Ferrari we left in our wake, wondering if the owner knew we were racing.

Almost three hours, and a quiet coffee in Nancy between trains later, we found ourselves sitting quietly around the table, at home, wondering what our next move will be.


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