Yesterday I ate on the balcony but couldn't swallow the emotional knot that had been stuck in my throat since morning. I stood up, leaned over the railing and took a deep look at the familiar landscape, the medieval houses rising massively towards the cathedral and the pink statue of Mary, the rolling green hills, the highway bridge far far to the right. I have observed this view hundreds of times, never found it the same and wasn't able to shake the feeling of being compelled to gasp in five years. The light was pleasantly yellow and sharp, the view reached wide in the direction of Saint Julien Chapteuil and towards distant Mt. Mezenc and then tears started rolling. I had to find my gf, poke her with a finger like I always do when I need her to hold me and lean on her shoulder until I was able to talk again. The move from Le Puy is imminent. I have never been attached to anybody or anything and while change has always upset my schedules, this is the first time it feels wrong. Maybe this is what growing old means. I might have settled down too much and too early. But it is a fact that these years have been the best of my life. Only my life, not that of my gf. I have grown into myself here, understood the way to become a person I like, started to see myself as a force with an outward effect, rather than just a maladjusted jumble of inward-facing thoughts. I made friends here, helped people out, worked a job based on something I am passionate about, I went out of the house, made people light up by my presence, discovered romantic and somewhat historically forlorn places in all cardinal directions. I am greeted by somebody every day, get invited to coffee in half a dozen places. I fell in love here, accepted and liked my body, discovered the pleasures of simple life and got rid of all relevant bad habits. I also started honoring my own time by selecting what I do, how I remember it and what I think of it. All of this with a stunning view, in a beautiful part of the world and in good health. It was a good run. The first time I have no objections about a period in my life. And it is coming to an end. That's what I am sad about. All of this is represented by the people I made friends with. They weren't close friendships, but they were regular parts of my life. Shopkeepers, my gf's colleagues, random encounters. They formed a community that was just always there to get out of my own mind, stop rumination and focus on the simple act of living. I realized that quite late, but I did realize it in the end. For basically everybody else, I am too sensitive. Life goes on, new things will come, change is exciting, friends come and go and fulfillment has to come from within ourselves. I get that. And I am not resisting change. But there is a part of me who thinks the odds of this having been the happiest time of my life are not that small. Maybe the cup of coffee poured by someone I clicked with over childhood in similar cultures, the round of cheese cut by one of the gentlest people I know, the hearty: "Bonjour, ca va!" on the street is just about everything you can hope for. Add Companionship at home and the feeling you matter with your interests and work for someone and I am hard pressed to name anything substantial that I would absolutely need. For now, I am starting the process of dissolution of this while swimming towards the unknown. That chafes. Today I was in a better mood. We went to a restaurant-bookshop with the in-laws. They were well-disposed, good talk, okay food. At a chocolatier lost between fields flowering in yellow, white and purple we met a guy from Lyon who had, like me, fallen in love with the region 20 years ago and never left. "Parfois vous-avez un coup de coeur", I told him to explain my own situation. But walking around the Lac du Devesset, we showed her parents around as if it were our own garden. Hear you can have a great view and there you can watch fish swimming. Did you see how the water between the plants on the shore look like deep blue flowers? To wait for them we went to a coffee shop in Saint Bonnet le Froid. Spa town, have been there a dozen times, not our cup of coffee as we know, but the owner recognizes us and smiles, bread at the bakery. In le Puy, a stylish guy with a scooter. Mandarin hair braid, black headband, big round glasses and a lollipop in his mouth. No respect for traffic but his stunts are swag and he looks like a Jinn on a scooter, he cast a spell over us and it's impossible to be mad. He makes me think of yesterday. Before I started sobbing about the evening panorama, a car came to the stop sign right below our windows, reggaeton pulsing "perfect day" vibes onto the old O2. It waited patiently while an older gentleman rolled by on a mobility vehicle, the speed of the music perfectly matching the speed of his helpful device. Le Puy has surprisingly many originals. You wouldn't bet an eye in Berlin or London at a scene like this but we're in the middle of nowhere, the main square is known for having sent off the first crusade, "ca pu le Christ" in every alley. But the world today is different. You can be comfortably lodged between pine trees and prejudice and still participate in the great movements of our time. This gentlemen could have been a Wim Wenders invention: cool hat, cigar jammed between teeth, a green plant in the small basket on the steering wheel, red-white Nike and high-reaching white socks. He pulls up to his garage door, searches for the remote in his pouch without any notion of haste, puts it back in, lights himself a new cigar and continues until he's out of sight. This was not just a small town but a miniature mirror of the world, which I am a proud citizen of. A human-scale place forked from the main development branch, where change happens slower, people have time and both nature and culture are, as they should be, awe-inspiring. It didn't lack any of the recognizable features of our time, the good and the bad, but it was accessible, open, comfortable and warm and I called it home. Whatever happens now, I'll always remember it as the place where I learned to love life and I am ready for the next chapter.