The Ides of March 2021, France

I wake up on the train back to Paris. My laptop is open in front of me. My attention flickers to the bottom-right of the screen: I am exactly two lines over the word-count. Relief. I always knew deep down this paper would write itself. These things normally do. The research trip has certainly been an enlightening one. And quite literally a ‘lightening’ one: as I prepare to dismount, on reaching for my recently emptied suitcase I note that I have given away all my worldly goods. I no longer carry the baggage of generational turmoil, and I see life in much sharper clarity. Whilst the other passengers shove each other in the aisle as we pull into the station, I am compelled to remain still. Their weary eyes dart around but I can see through them, straight into their souls.

I get off the train and someone is waiting for me on the platform. Its Ulrick. He has hired a professional lute trio to serenade me with a bardcore rendition of ‘White Flag.’ And in this moment, all my previous hatred is turned to love. And all the previous chaos has turned to Virtue.