Fragments

I sure wish exchanging smiles were easier here in France. Growing up in sunny California I developed a slightly awkward penchant to smile at anybody and everybody in an attempt to appear open, approachable and friendly. Here in France, where the muscular jaws seem to be permanently set on scowl mode, I quickly fade to a lighter shade of awkwardness as I start to question my permanent grin.

Meeting my friend at the Anglophone library yesterday, we perused a book sale where every book was priced at a euro. A sucker for old good books, I picked up six... a collection of Robert Frost's poems, some Keats, Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, A Brave New World by Aldous Huxley and some English grammar stuff for my students.

The colors of the leaves are turning, and I'm looking forward to winter on the Maine river. Walking with my friend this afternoon, I tasted October on the air and swayed about in a slightly euphoric nostalgia as I pounded the cobblestones. Things are good, not marvelous. I wouldn't have it any other way.