Have you ever been doing something so utterly mindless and banal like washing your dinner dishes from the past two nights when you looked out the window to see a gigantic yellow full moon, just hanging in the sky there, above the little chimney tops, despite the fact that it was too late for the moon to be hanging that low?
And then you turned your head 90 degrees and saw Sacre Coeur all lit up and magic-y on the big hill in the distance, and you thought to yourself, so this is it? This is life? Is it not all so surreal and bizarre how we end up where we end up, whether it’s what and where we dreamed for ourselves our entire lives, or something so completely and amazingly unexpected, or something that even feels preordained?
And then the moon disappeared behind some clouds as it knew it always would and you thought, so this is really life, then? Or is it just the red wine talking?