A chip off the old block

Travelling with my father is fun for the same reason that it's terrifying: it gives a pretty crystal-clear picture of who I'm going to be in forty years. We're doing most of the stuff you're supposed to do (the Louvre, Notre Dame, Concorde, the Arc, that silly tower) but that's all just an excuse to get to the next cafe. And even the cafes are just an excuse to speak the secret shorthand of inside jokes and well-worn stories that families tell themselves over and over while I stare headlong into my future.