My last night I had exactly four euros left, and spent them on espresso at a French restaurant. People kept coming in from the rain, all sorts of interesting characters filling the barstools. I watched an older man sit down to do a crossword puzzle with blue ballpoint on smudged newspaper, his black bowler hat covering his gray, caterpillar-like eyebrows. Sipping from a mug heavy with whipped cream, he looked as content and comfortable in his life as he did at this bar. I pulled out my sketchbook and hoped I did, too.
