leaving...or staying

Years ago I wrote into my little red book of sayings and poems a line saying « there is a thin line between love and hate ». Tonight I realised it perfectly describes my relationship with Paris.

More than once I have felt like packing my bags and going as far away as possible from this horrible city. I have been convinced that the so called city of romance has brought nothing but tears and misery into my life. Thus, the sooner I get out of here, the better. Besides, everybody knows that the Parisians are rude, the traffic is dangerous, the air is bad and the wine expensive.

Then there are times, like tonight, when I listen to good music, while biking past the beautiful scenery, on my way back home after a long night at work. I climb up to my 6^th floor apartment and make myself a cup of camomile tea. Then I feel like I never want to leave Paris.

Though, I know I eventually will.