I barely mumble bonjour and merci when the man casts a glance at my passport. Too shy to enunciate.
It's not warm, but it's not cold either. My scarf feels pointless. I could be in a t-shirt, but only for a minute or two. The air smells good, and feels good. There's warmth in it, and a touch of the sea. You can almost taste it. The sky's low, the clouds dark, but it's still mild.
I feel elsewhere.
Somewhere different, somewhere new.