Weepy, weary, achey, under-the-weather. How fun it is to be in a cold country(!) I wish I were somewhere warmer, maybe Europe is a little bit better this time of year. I'd love to be in a hotel room in France with a box of macaroons and soft French music blaring out from a sidewalk restaurant, like Yann Tiersen or Jean-Yves Thibaudet; maybe even Serge or Charlotte Gainsbourg. Everyone would look cosy, walking arm in arm to and from the streets of Marseilles. I'd love to have a balcony in my hotel room with a view of the patisserie on the corner, all of the delicious aromas wavering off everywhere so that i'd feel hungry. The boulangerie would be sold out of bread, with a plump French man going "alors, alors!" exclaiming there is no more.
Sometimes I long for a French friend, and we'd have laughs sitting in café's and walking along the edges of fountains throwing bread for imaginary ducks. We would chase pretty French boys into dark side streets and pick up tips from wandering mimes and living statues. It would be a happy time in my life if I lived somewhere in France.
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