lost and found

today i woke up feeling sad that i can not pick up and go to paris by myself for a month and get lost; walking for hours, cafe creme, wine and fresh fruit, mute on the outside but screaming with ideas on the inside. this lack of freedom does not come without gigantic reward, but it makes me sad none the less. the thing that strikes me most is that it's not a lazy apathetic kind of sad, rather it's hungry and urgent - like the feeling that you've lost your wallet and if you look hard enough you might still be able to find it. maybe i will.