Swear I was born right in the doorway.

I moved out of my apartment today. Took one last look at the place that housed my life in Paris before I lugged my baggage down the windy stairs into the oppressive Paris heat. Took one last look at Rue St Jacques, the epicerie that I went to, the place that gave me food poisoning, Val de Grace's stone which under the warmth of different suns shines a myriad of different colors. I am no longer living here, I am a visitor staying with friends, a tourist in the city that I feel is more like my home than where I grew up. I do not have an address in the city anymore, I do not have a cafe where the baristas know who I am (and that I am always late) or a boulanger who prepares the baguette and croissant that he knows I will want when I walk through the door. In all those ridiculous questions, you have a day, a week, a month left to live what would you do you are forced to live you are forced to evaluate what is the most important in your life. Is the good time and the experience what you live for, will you party out your last days on earth, will you spend it quietly with the person you love? That, in a way, is what I am going through now. My days are so short that I can taste the end, I can already feel the tears welling up that I will cry when I leave. Moving out of my apartment marked the end for me, and now I am forced to decided how I will leave a city and the people that I love so desperately. I have 21 days left to live in Paris, what will I do?