Sundays are for wearing your new jbrands skinnies and your dirty hair tied up tight for no one to see. I’ll buy the discounted bouquets of flowers, wilting just a little but pretty all the same. I’ll drink coffee after coffee, watching couples walk by hand in hand, feeling happy for them but sad for me. I’ll feel alone but not lonely, anxious but not agitated, happy to be by myself, happy to read hangover updates on my i-phone from my friends dotted across the world, happy to be in the city, surrounded by people but watching them on my own. I’ll speak Spanish at the cafe, I’ll read my book in English and all the while, my bare face and breton seem so French. It’s a typical Sunday for me, no makeup, no plans, just me – and an amalgamation of all 3 places that make me, me – wherever I am.