Paris, which had always amused me on holiday, was too lovely ...
emigration was no hardship, it was an outing. It offered the shining
wet boulevards under the street lights, breakfast in Monmartre with
cognac in your glass, coffee and lukewarm brioche, gigolos and
prostitutes at night. ... Everyone in the world has two fatherlands:
his own and Paris. (Spiel im Dasein)