Home sweet home

When I see the rabbits galloping along the runway at Charles de Gaulle airport I know I'm back home. Then there is the RER through miles of graffitied suburbs to Paris. A sandwich at Gare d'Austerlitz where pigeons invite themselves inside the cafés, literally landing on the tables and feasting on crumbs. Listening to a Japanese tourist play a piano plonked in the middle of the station for anyone to share their talent, or lack thereof, with everyone else. At that moment, it feels like a good idea, but I imagine that less tuneful or skilled players may be the cause of some irritation, not so much among the transient passengers, but the many station workers. Finally, the immense plains of Beauce. And the giant wind turbines, grown almost overnight like wild flowers, mincing the evening sky... Home at last...