My Paris Dreams

She dreamed she could. So she did. She flew away and never came back. 

Her story starts where it should end. The faded walls are closing in so she just ends up leaving again. She just takes a deep breath and walks down the steps. No destination in mind, just a fancy beret and a song in her head. A coffee shop calls her name, and a gingerbread latte waits to be hugged. It’s also waiting to spoil her most favorite coral skirt. She just doesn’t know it…yet. 

“I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won’t tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn’t change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn’t really change the fact that you have what you have.” 

I’m many things. I’m short, I don’t fit in, I hate orange juice and I should probably stay true to my self-professsed bed times. But, if there’s one thing you should know it’s that I pair well with Paris. You know, when I’m sitting at a cozy little cafe over-looking the Eiffel and dipping freshly baked biscotti into a cappuccino whilst writing away as a writer of sorts. That. That’s all you should really know. 

“Make a little space, and get out of your own way…” Cause, you know. Nothing ever happens if you always play it safe….or if you’re afraid to get dirty.