While Paris pulses outside I am perversely content to stay in my room, preparing to Body-Scan at the Centre Pompidou. I wake up late. I practise yoga in the narrow space between my bed and the desk. I cook myself lunch in the little kitchenette. Today's lunch is Spinach and Ricotta Ravioli served with Asparagus and sheep brie, all tossed in a light coating of pesto. I ate this with a small glass of Sancerre.
In a short while I shall go to the theatre. Hopefully today I shall not get lost in the labyrinthe that is the backstage of Centre Pompidou.
I have been forewarned (with a certain amount of glee) that a Paris opening is something to experience. I am to expect the huffing and puffing of bourgeois Theatre de la Ville season's ticket holders leaving the room. Possibly yelling expressions of outrage.
But I have been marquée au feu by love and death.
Bring it on.