Travelling alone has brought a sense of loneliness with it. The same feeling that lets you travel at your own pace, take in your choice of delights and sit basking in a peaceful solitude also makes you unravel.
Reminds you that if you fall, who will catch you?
If you’re unwell, who will love you tenderly?
If there is a joy to share, how will another possibly feel it?
It’s been odd, this Paris trip. Especially as I’m at the start perhaps.
Not yet familiar enough to ask for a hug, solo enough to sit alone within a group.