I’m staying in a Parisian apartment that was built for someone exactly my height. I have a palm’s width of clearance between the top of my head and the 18th century oak beams placed every 8 or 10 inches into the ceiling.

And there are books here. Everywhere you look, a collection of history, art history, anthropology, linguistics, you name it.

This apartment was literally made for me (except for the fact that someone else actually owns it and is just letting me stay in it for a few weeks).