Paris is the dream, so they say. It’s a magical place of endless croissants, crêpes, and baguettes. It’s a place where getting lost means finding my new favorite pâtisserie. It’s a place filled with history, architecture, and museums. It’s a place where I can now call home.
It’s also a place that, within the first week of moving here, made me feel empty. It’s easy to fall in love with this place. I mean, the people, food, and culture are nothing short of extraordinary. But why am I here? Better yet, who am I here for? Every time I asked myself these questions, my answers left me dissatisfied.
I want something more than the smell of coffee and bread to wake me up in the morning.
I want purpose.
I want to know that when I leave this place, I’m not just leaving with crêpes in…