this photo reminds me of paris. of riding the subway. sitting on the steps behind the pompidou eating poulet et crudites baguettes and drinking orangina. walking through the wooded parks. the smell of the apt we rented for the week. the slanted floors in our “hotel” room. having the best tarte aux fraises of my life sitting on the bench outside fauchon. always forgetting that everything closed down on sundays. and as a result starving through sunday night or going on ridiculous hunts for an open restaurant. having lunch at le samson every day (10 euros for 3 courses and wine!). dinner that night in the tiny back alley cafe that served orgasmically good confit de canard. the smell of cigarettes in my hair, my clothes, his hair, his clothes, our blankets… showering over the toilet in that tiny bathroom. chasing the pigeons outside the louvre. the anti-climatic moment of seeing the mona lisa. the strange and scary yet magical “amusement” park covered in parisian youths wearing bright neon clothing. getting caught in the rain and ducking in to the nearest cafes. the cafes, everywhere. stumbling over my words in my sad american attempt at speaking french. but hurrah! the little french pharmacist understood i was trying to tell him “my bf is sick with a running nose and horrible cough.” taking pictures of the carousel in montmartre and feeling like amelie. coming home and still having the smell of paris in my luggage months after i’d returned to “real life.”
there’s been so much drama surrounding my life lately. i’ve lost faith, in individuals but also in people as a whole. but i’ve also been blessed with witnessing how strong the human spirit can be.
i just want to run away. where no one knows me and i know no one. that’s the problem isn’t it? i always run away from my problems.
