After several intense days in front of customers, I treasure a day of flâner. That’s French for wandering with no particular aim.
(I have no facility with French. Please feel free to correct my usage.)
In the past, I thought of them as my rudderless days. I would rise, read the news and look out the window. After what I thought would be a quick shower which often turned otherwise, I’d dress.
Casual. Very casual.
The french captures it perfectly.
Breakfast? Perhaps but not a long one.
Time to be somewhere else, but where?
Outside, for sure. I’ve been inside with flourescent lights, a white board, ten computers and twenty geeks for a week. I need nature, grass, trees, dirt, water where it happens not where it is forced.
Parks are good, forests better. Green, yellow, red, brown, even black with white snow is good. Fog is wonderful. Heavy rain is cleansing. New falling snow a delight.
Streets are fine provided they are small streets, not avenues. Little shops, no chains, a touch on the worn side is good.
Which way is the wind blowing?
Hungry? What’s there? A sandwich shop run by Mom and Pop or a four star wallet buster - “I’ll just have an appetizer, please. Nothing more.” Whatever is at hand will do.
Now, the wind. Which way?
No plan. No direction.
The wind blows my hair.