When I woke up, I was in Paris. Everyone was laughing in French. The man behind the counter selling me tickets for the Metro told me not to panic. Everyone on the metro was mad at me when the doors kept closing on my bag. When I arrived at the front gate east of the Port de Montreuil, I pulled down on the rope and bells rang. Virginie and her cats were waiting for me with liver pate, brie, and red wine. She showed me where I’d be sleeping, a cot in Jacques Rebotier’s artist studio. Then I got lost in the streets above the Seine. My shoes are worn to the bone. I found a pub called The Cricketer. Siri and Ksenia gave me free drinks and two shrimp from a to-go box because it was my first night in Paris. And today I’m starting at the Musée d'Orsay with B & L, then it’s back into the streets with Francoise Hardy in my ears to find the ferris wheel where the wind is playing with all the skirts. My traveling pants are disintegrating from my legs. Please, send money.