My first day back in the city of my dreams, I went for aimless walks around St Germaine, ate a million croissants, and drank all the vin chaud I could get my hands on (it was cold, I was being a responsible adult and hydrating with warm liquids).
But on my second day, I left before the sun rose and walked to Trocadero to see the sun rise behind the Iron Lady. Then I walked along the river for hours, stopping where I wanted to, ignoring whatever I wanted to, reacquainting myself with my lover.
It was, by far, the most perfect day. Until I woke up again the next day, and it was better than the last. And so on went my days.