« Oui, ca fume à Paris »
I had just gotten off of an Airfrance red eye from SFO to CDG. I was moving into a hundred person line at the taxi stand when I passed through a group of cops having a smoke. I really wasn’t coughing to make a point, I lived in France for four years, so obviously I know better, the air was simply unbreatheable. Yes, I really am back. Welcome home, the Parisian attitude is like an old friend. We don’t really get along, but we’ve known each other long enough that I’m unwilling to give up on the relationship.