In Paris, early Spring, 2005, I sat on a stone bench in the courtyard of the Louve on a sunny windy day. I enjoyed the unpretentious yet powerful presence of this woman standing behind me in her cubby on the wall of the courtyard. We watched everyone strolling about their business, glad that no one noticed us. I took out my journal for a few minutes, and it seemed like just the right thing to do at that moment unlike it feels when I would take out my journal in the Someday Cafe (RIP) and you feel like your being pretentious. I closed the journal and made an effort not to get blown inside on the only sunny day of the week we visited Paris, and decided for a moment to just be there. "I am in the courtyard of the Louve," I said. Contentedly, she replied, "So am I."