[The first day of the rest of your life]
Today, I tied my hair into a ponytail. And slipped my bare feet into furry boots.
Up there I could barely see.
London, September 2012
You should see the skyline today. Nothing like it and yet, I haven’t found anything better than clouds blanketing everything around us.
Not unlike closing your eyes to the mountain sun.
The sound of wind through the trees. And of leaves under our boots too.
The hidden world behind puddles.
Knowing that Christmas is just around. Because, really, the best thing about Christmas is the perfect mix of anticipation and excitement.
Is it just me, or do you also feel like that – more than any other month – tarts belong to November?
It usually happens without a warning. And without a calendar.
[And pieces of tree would fall from the sky - The ultimate quadruple chocolate loaf cake]
I plan to spend this autumn collecting dead leaves and horse-chestnuts, drinking coffees with warm mittens on, drawing the nights away, and day-dreaming about je ne sais quoi.
Hello, it’s 32°C out there.
This morning I went swimming. One last time before the French holidays come to an end.
Oh, this past month has been great. I’ve been enjoying the summer I never got this summer.
I am away from London for a month. Yes and whole entire month.
And as I was landing at the smallest airport I have ever seen (so small I couldn’t help but take pictures of the very vintage aérogare straight from the plane tiny window*), I knew I would miss that city which has not-so slowly grown on me**.