On the fifth day of a solo trip in Europe, on my last morning in Paris, I stumbled into this cafe called Crow. The friendly owner made me breakfast (eggs and brioche), and we talked about the experience of starting your own business. The space used to be a salon for dreadlocks; his ethos with the cafe was to maintain the third space for the surrounding community.

I realized I had been deprived of real social interaction, since up until that point on the trip, the extent of my conversations was limited by my French — "Do you have a table for 1?" "Do you have an English menu?" and "Where is restroom?"