Landing at 2.30 in the afternoon, a big smile on my face, ready for the frenchiness to unfold. Limestone backdrops, sweeping coastline, heat haze, a city which from above seems to pile up on itself, vapour trails against a blue sky, the antique market in Cours Saleya, Vieux Nice, rosé de Bandol on the terrasse.
Nice.
I think I may well have been French in a past life. Something opens inside me when I'm in France, walking down the narrow streets, seeing the labels in French on cuts of meat in the butcher's hearing French, speaking French. The little seed opens and blossoms.
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