Before I went to Paris I always thought the sky couldn't really be that color, that it was a weird camera effect, some underground brainwashing filter designed and employed by people who know people to get you to Paris so they could shove croissants and tiny Eiffel Tower trinkets in your face, but it really is that color. Read it & weep.
I spent a month in Paris by myself. That's something, isn't it? Hardly Nobel Peace Prize territory, or even getting-your-card-stamped-at-the-Subway cool, but for a fairly conventional, introverted homebody who'd never been out of the country before last October, it counts as something.
Flapping my wings on Friday; the rest of the week I'm keeping to myself, in order to maintain some semblance of my hitherto mysterious allure.
I'M COMING HOME, AMERICA! Lock up your burgers.