End of June, Paris, France It's been a great week here in France. Spent three days in Paris. I've seen it many times in movies, yet it feels definitely foreign all because of the language. I know I know its an exotic language but three days not speaking English to anyone is just too much (or speaking English but no one replies you in return and you ended up w/ body-language-conversation). Even more to bear is the thought that keeps coming back every once in a short while. Its the beauty of the streets. Its the sunshine. Its the long walk and the train travel. Its the flowers. Its the long sleepless nights. Its the monalisa. Its the sore throat. Its the pretty colors. Its the skies. Its everything strangely equals you.
wherever i go, wherever i do, i wonder where i am in my relationship to you. where you go, wherever you are, i watch your pretty life play out in pictures from afar
Early July, Tours, France
This is supposed to be my escape. But how could I when this pointless nostalgic flashes back in waves. I'm getting weak and strong at the same time and this magnetic-pull direct me to the artistic side of me to compensate the fact that I am reminiscing you.
you didn't know, but you bring out the best in me
