Untethered in Paris

摘要

The experience was exhil arating and also rejuvenating. I was alone, sipping Pernod at the cafe Les Deux Magots. My sidewalk table faced the Boulevard Saint-Germain and an intersection named for Jean-Paul Sartre and Sim-one de Beauvoir. My cellphone didn't work in France, and I had left my other digital tools at home. I was unconnected, unreachable, injoignable in a foreign land, sitting where the likes of Hemingway, Fitzgerald, even Woody Allen had sat. I was untethered in Paris.