This October’s weather has been a bitter-sweet candy that I most gladly take advantage of. I know that these spring-like … More
Three years in the middle of your twenties mean a whole lot of growing up, in a bitter-sweet mix of … More
Bonifacio, Corsica. For WPC: Place in the World. Several years ago, the choice for this post would have been so … More
When three years pass in the same place, same room, with harshly the same people, we can easily imagine things … More
Her ; Juliette Armanet ; Melanie Pain
Give me a Sunday walk by the lively river, a bus drive* through two of my favourite Parisian quarters, a … More
No need for introductions anymore.
Fishbach ; Cyril Mokaiesh ; Faire…
Sometimes, I feel spring wakes up our soul with its desires and dreams, gets us going joyfully again in that … More
Living in Paris always leaves one with the impression this glorious city is all or at least the best the … More
From a tourist to a full-time Parisian? Peut-être. Never lost the wonder, though.
It is here I always feel most at home, exactly where I’m supposed to be.
And what I admire is how the touristy and the local intermingle on the banks.
As much as I can love my new life and all it has given me, I have to accept the fact I excluded myself from the everyday life of most of my closest people.
The forgotten quarter of French capital? By tourists, maybe. By locals, no.
I remember how I loved the journey, the act of being on the way to somewhere, as a child. It was the moments of observing the world around me I adored so much.
I said the list would grow, right? Well, here’s the second part of my eternal quest.
The more you go through, the more you can go through.
I’ve been too stubborn about it, like a blindfolded hurt buffalo thrusting my way through every relation I had, family, friends or love, it didn’t matter. All they had to know and what I wanted to feel was the eternal I don’t need anybody, any-F*-body, ok?
Here’s to the melodies that made and still are making my stay here bearable in its many anxieties and phenomenal in its just as many joys.
Do you ever wonder how intuition works in mysterious ways? How you can sometimes just know things after the first glance and sometimes the first impression completely misleads you… So, how does it work?
Maybe it’s usual and something everyone goes through to have a personal crisis about 6 months after you leave home and start a life someplace new…
For me, it is the diversity, the variety, the richness and the serenity in it. No other city has so far fascinated me as much with the infinity of quarters, avenues and parks that I keep discovering, all so very lovely and so individualistic-ly Parisian.
What does traveling or moving to a foreign city/country change? Isn’t it just an escape, a temporary illusion that your problems might resolve themselves there, that you might get to be a better and saner person in another place?