It never fails to amaze me that I somehow always manage to just miss the tram. Apparently the schedule is online, but I somehow feel like that would be against the rules in my world of no clocks.This afternoon while waiting for the tram that would take me to E. Leclerc to pick up my weekly groceries I noticed a woman. I don't know what it was about the way she was standing there with her bag in and and in her gray coat, but I found myself taking her picture and wondering about life and waiting.
In Richmond my life was nothing but waiting - waiting for the next day, the next thing, the next step. Waiting without end. And yet here in France I find myself waiting for things daily - the tram, the coffee to be made, the water to boil - but even so life doesn't seemed so filled with waiting.
I've heard that half of life is spent waiting, but now I can't remember half of that...
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