I took a long walk through the streets of Paris.
It was still western culture, but a slightly tweaked version of my reality. The subtle details were different than the subtleties I knew well. I looked at the doors, with knobs in the middle, that met busy sidewalks and quiet sidewalks equally, inches offset from the whirr of 2000 years of traffic. Each one was hiding something. A more complex story, four stories high. Apartments, pets, doctors, families, courtyards. Generations of pets.
Of doctors, families and courtyards.
