The best thing for me these days is to keep busy. I don't think I'm moving forward as much as I'm hurtling myself forward. I've already read all the books I brought back with me. I unpacked the dreaded carry on but I'm still looking for places to put all the stuff. The choir concert is Friday night, so the extra rehearsals help. We had a medieval festival in Troyes this weekend, but it was the first time they've had one and it was nothing like the huge festival they have in Provins every year, which was also this weekend. Still, there was a medieval garden and exhibits on machines of war and medicine and the town itself looked very nice. Everything had stopped by 7pm Saturday night, so we missed it when we went for a walk, but we caught some highlights Sunday afternoon. Last night, Steph took me out for a belated birthday dinner, at a creperie right in the middle of the oldest part of town. I love eating on the terrace there. The sun doesn't set until after 10pm (which is still very weird for me) and the weather is so gorgeous that it's simply criminal not to go out and take a stroll.
I can laugh and joke, and go along my day as if nothing in the world was wrong with me.
But every night, when I go to bed, images of that terrible day play in the back of my mind, like a movie I can't switch off. No matter how tired I am, there they are.
And then the next day, jump out of bed and go go go, stay busy. As if I could outrun it.