If you know me, you're know I have this love affair with Paris and the French language. Particularly in high school, I was known to be scribbling away on the edges of my notebook that I would type up when I got home. And especially in French class, I would aimlessly daydream about walking the cobblestone streets and would go home and turn my dreams into words. Here's an old excerpt of something I wrote back in those daydreaming days:

1. Something - I want to be able to walk around on creaky floors while rain falls on my roof. I want to be able to peer through the windows of my little apartment and see the hazy street lights. I want to wake up with the 5 am sun while I stretch my legs wearing nothing but an old gray band t-shirt.

2. Someone - His eyes must be bright, preferably green, with specks of excitement. Tall enough so I can look up to him when he tells me it’s going to be okay. I want him to open my apartment door at 3 am to watch the rain with me.

3. Somewhere - I want to be there. I want to wake up with a day old puff pastry in my pantry. With a spilled mess of violet red wine and black nail polish scattered on the hardwood floor, in my hopes of finding the perfect color before a night out to a Parisian art gallery with ‘mes amies.’ I want to be able to open my little window and hear the familiar chatter of the French language.