The fog of the day is fuzzing my eyeballs. I don't know what to say. I wonder if anyone in this ticket station feels as lost in life as I do. No, I doubt it. Everything is certainty to them. They're getting out of the city to see family this weekend, or it's a hotel room in the south of France for Bastille Day. You can go anywhere from Paris. Same day tickets, short sight, smiling faces, vacation is in the air. And yet the stress is so prevalent, the rush, the itinerary, tickets to relaxation clutched in hand, tickets to get away, sometimes children in tow. I guess we're all trying to get away. Mais I'm not getting away today. I'm buying tickets from Lamballe in the north to Barcelona for the end of the month, a fortnight away.
Lamballe's the closest station to Plevenon, the little coastal village where Sacha's mom has a country home. She spends the summers there because it isn't too hot. Not like it is in Ojai. The summers are usually overcast and wet. That's why I have a water-slick windbreaker packed in my bag, added it's wonted weight to the trip. I'll be thankful when it's raining. (said the farmer to his wife)
Context is everything.
