Strangely, among the various possibilities that a big city offers, the one that might be most predictably and immediately academically helpful is a kind of life in miniature. I have a delightful but tiny (bijou!) flat in the Marais, a laptop with every document and rough draft I’ve ever written, a selection of pdf articles and the outline of my work-in-progress book on tacit knowledge (and 80 cds on a nano). I picture an early run each morning before the heat builds up, a mid-morning coffee and an early evening beer in a pavement café and a fair amount of writing (pale blinds drawn all day… waiting for the gift of sound and vision).
Of course, it may not be like that at all. I (It wasn't quite.)
