…In Paris, I told myself, writers must never fear the blank page or the blinking cursor. In Paris, the stories just write themselves.
For a long time, I convinced myself that to know Paris even a little was enough. I was happy to spend a weekend or two every few years wandering her streets and sipping wine at her cafes. To want anything more felt childish and a little crazy, like flapping your arms to fly to the moon.
Then a month ago, I moved to Paris.
Photo from The Week (Credit: Atlantide Phototravel/Corbis)