My coworker went to Europe and brought me back this nice little print of a scene on the River Seine. Quiet river noises on my cloth-covered partition wall, turn my head to the right and there I feel. French accents, the male voices only minimally annoying, mix with the sounds of watercraft and small splashes, birds talking. As long as I cycle, dance, and swim plenty in the good old US of A, there seems no pressing need or desire to travel, but as my gaze flows from the Seine to the mottled French sky, and back over the city skyline, I consider what wonders would come to light during such a journey. All the same, I'm sure, but is it? Fly high, hit hard.
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