Still in Paris.
Yes, I could fly home but I am too cheap to shell out the money (300 plus Euros).
I could take a taxi to the train station and hope to find a train that might be going to Marseille and that I might be able to take if there is room, and if not take a taxi back to my apartment. The thought of it is draining as I have been feeling under the weather.
Sacha suggested a bus home. After the long flight, I don't want to go on a bus for ten to twelve hours while sneezing and spreading my cold germs.
I could hitchhike.
Or I could wait it out.
Life could be worse. Far worse than this hiccup. But it isn't thankfully.
A man poorly dressed, disheveled with eyes that spoke of sadness stood outside of a grocery store, he wasn't begging, he wasn't saying anything. He just seemed to be lost in his own world. Another man walked up to him and gave him food which the man took and thanked the other one for and then ravenously ate it. I watched and felt ashamed that I was bothered about my unimportant issue with the train strike. I went over to him and asked him what I could do to help. He looked at me and with such kindness in his eyes said,
"Just knowing you cared enough to ask helps."
Wow.
Leave a Reply