First, I wake up in this bed:
Those are scarves and an umbrella hanging from the wall. That is Clownie lying lifelessly on my pillows.
Then, twisting the long, creaky metal pole, I roll up my blinds--wonderful, heavy, wooden blinds that keep me in pitch blackness as late as i want--and sunlight comes flooding in (unless it's gray and rainy. which is fairly frequently). This is what I see:
Yes, that is a French-language version of Cosmo in the right corner. And yes, I make sure that my sunglasses stay in a straight line at all times.
When I leave the building, I go through this gate:
No matter where I am going, I am usually late, and I spring out of the metro station, breathless, ripping my scarf from my neck and unbuttoning my coat as I run, working myself into a heated frenzy even against the biting chill. A rough approximation of said event:
These, Cory, are my feet on Parisian pavement:
They are, I believe, pretty different from my American feet.
1 comment:
Loved the pictures. If a picture is worth a thousand words, between your two continguous blog entries you've got 10,000 words. Talk about leverage. By the way, Clownie doesn't lie lifelessly. He may look lifeless, but he has a very active inner life, and he's just maintaining his integrity.
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