thoughts in paris
you know that moment when you know something because either you’ve been told it or because you just know it or because you’ve seen it, but you don’t actually realise it until its thrust upon you?
everyone in paris smokes.
I’m positive I now have second hand emphysema.
I’m in awe of the fashions here. women usually dress nicely, although not as good as the men. frenchmen are to die for. their beige pants, baby blue shirts, brown shoes and belts, and yellow or navy jumpers over their shoulders make me melt. of course, I’ll always have a soft spot for an aussie blokes in flannies and blunnies, but frenchmen… they have, just, a little je ne sais quoi.
travelling alone 