Maybe it's too soon. I barely know the language, and a lump rises in my throat at the very thought of leaving everyone I love for so long.
Recently, I was discussing my definite plans for going over to France for five-and-a-half months, and she asked me why. I hesitated for a moment, because it really was such an obvious question that I just presumed everyone knew why I was going. To study, to learn, have fun, expand my views on the world, blah-bla-blaaaaah..
But behind the lump of sadness (great personification, there Ell, really well done) there is a knot, a clique, a nexus, a spiral, a pack, a gathering,
Here are the Others:
- Ride a scooter down the Champs-Élysées
- Feel that tingle down my spine as the Mona Lisa herself smiles at me
- Nearly crack my neck trying to see all of Château du Versailles at once
- Speak really terrible English because I have only been talking in French
- Ski down the back of the Alps
- Open those doors on the windows that only France seems to have
- Ride a hot air balloon across a sea of lavender
- Dodge the infamous load of dog-poop that is apparently *all* over Paris (this is from my Uncle, btw)
- Hold hands under the Eiffel Tower
- Eat a multi-coloured macaroon
- And it's not stopping there
Love Ell x