The city’s alive with its secrets under the cobblestones and in back courtyards, down side streets and basking on café terraces along wide boulevards bathed in delicious late-spring sun.
At my desk, birdsong drifts in the window. So does the grind and screech of the trash men making their morning rounds.
In the back of the garden, I can hear the church bells ring every quarter hour.
Now must run to an appointment, connecting across borders and time zones to join with another just right here.