Paris

• First leg of the journey.
  I arrived in Paris to a pair of customs officers who upon seeing that I worked in the theatre asked me to "jouer de la comédie" right then and there. I half considered it noting that they held my precious passport in their hands.
  
  I had forgotten how much Kabyle is spoken here--the couple chatting on the street, the shoppers out and about in the market...I went to visit the olive seller who has been asking about me for the past three years since I lived here. He was so excited to hear I was headed to Algeria. I had a sample of the dried apricots he was selling. Paris is like easing into Algeria.