Soon to be published in it’s entirety.
It’s five am and I am wide awake again, cursed as I am by a cruel reverse jet lag that happens every time I go overseas. My wife sleeps soundly, breathing deeply by my side, nothing will wake her after a long flight. The walls of the bedroom are covered in a pink flowered wall paper with antique mirrors in gilded frames, the fleur des lis pattern of Louis the 14th adorn the doorknobs, the mediterranean is below us across the street. The cool breeze and the smell of salt water comes in through the apartment from the bedroom doors left open to the night air. Dawn threatens slowly outside, the grey light of morning dim in the bedroom. I walk to the living room and to the balcony to look out at the sea, calm and still with dawn still a bit away. The light slowly gets brighter as I watch the very few people who are up and about move along the street and seashore below. A few men are arranging beach chairs and raking the sand clean of debris for the beach goers that will arrive in a few hours time.
Coffee, I need coffee. My son is sleeping on a makeshift bed in the hallway between the bedroom and the living room. He is beginning to stir, it’s 5:30 in the morning, the summer sun behind a bank of clouds begins to rise over the ocean. We decide to explore, just the two of us. My need for caffeine and pastry is all consuming. My son speaks french, I do not. I always get by on my own but feel better navigating anywhere with him by my side as he can act as my translator should I need it, a job for which earns five euros per day, not a bad payday for a nine year old.
Dawn is turning the mid grey sky over the sea shades of purple and the salt in the air is much stronger now, a warm breeze comes from the old town at our backs down the mountains towards the ocean. We walk along the beach quietly together and find a cafe that is serving the workers in the area, the smell of freshly baked pastry and coffee spills out onto the boardwalk...