Paris August

I am high in an Airbnb in Paris and there is no one to tell. Uber Eats came an hour ago and I ate it in the wrong order at the wrong time, standing up, out of the packaging, the cold cucumber salad first, then a hot pan-fried dumpling. Girl dinner for breakfast. Nobody has an opinion. There is nothing in this apartment that belongs to anyone who knows me.

From Two Keys, an unpublished memoir