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Most people have a cherished dream, something they are going to do one day when the stars align.
My dream was to live and write in Paris, the full fantasy; balcony, red geraniums, laptop open on desk. It wasn’t an original dream, but then dreams mostly aren’t, they are a shared image of an unattainable perfect life. The years slipped by and my dream stayed just ahead of me, as dreams do.
Then, one day, I decided I would make it happen. Half way through the next year I was living in an apartment on the slopes of Montmartre with a balcony, red geraniums, laptop open.
Most people thought it was luck, that somehow I had accidentally stumbled into my dream – and at times it felt like that, the sheerest good fortune – but in reality, it took a full year of planning, saving, arranging. A dream will stay out of reach unless you track it down.
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