So this is Paris. It is a bit disappointing the way the train sneaks into town through industrial suburbs, one would think everything would be magnificent, but it is not so. Just like home. Or maybe it is the rain that makes everything look a bit grey. I have an entire day off here before going back in the next luxury train, I hope I can see the Louvre.

The Gare de l'Est is completely busy in the morning. Lots of people are walking up and down, some ready to travel, some arriving, some working like me. I feel someone's eyes are on me, but strangely enough I can't place the person, just feel the intensity.

The Spanish mother and daughter have already left the train, not without telling me how nice the young man, that is: me, had been. Now the mother is saying goodbye to the French writer and his wife who are standing on the plattform all wrapped up in furs. The daughter, who talked to me a bit this morning, waves me goodbye with her gloved little hand and I wink. Suddenly I have an idea and wave for her attention. With my fingers I draw a pyramid in the air and then show her four fingers. She is smiling now but I don't know if she has understood. I hope she has.

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