Il fait si beau ce soir. Je peux voir la lune.
My window is cracked open and I can see exactly half of the moon. French music makes me homesick for Paris. If it is possible to be homesick for a place you only spent five days in… je pense que c’est possible.
The cool summer air (yes ‘cool’… be jealous) comes in through the open window and I feel the inconsolable urge to fill up the last remaining pages in my notebook. As well, my pen decides to expire with the pages and start to run out of ink.
I read just a few days ago that some writers write to prevent their experiences from disappearing and being forgotten. (or something more poetic than that) Perhaps that’s what I am afraid of as well. So here. I share this with you.
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🙂 i like this one! and incredible photo!