Sojourner 'Journey' Brown had only two things planned in life :
1. She had to fulfill her never ending bucket list before she died.
2. What her epitaph would read.
Of which the first one is temporarily on hold. But she'll do what she wants and soon...
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Paris 5th Jan, Thursday
I'm bored.
After spending the last three days clicking various pictures of the city of love, this is what I'm feeling. The constant sighting of smooching couples isn't cute anymore.
If Shelly, aka my conscience, were here, she'd probably say I'm jealous of their relationship.
Hah! As if!
On the only brighter note, I got to see Paris at night. And it's as beautiful as I always imagined it to be, if not more.
And currently sitting on a bed in some semi-fancy Parisian hotel, reviewing the names of places I'll visit tomorrow, I let out my sixth sigh of the day. These places could make a probable story that can attract tourists.
Or so I think.
I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I used to love doing this. But now I only feel stuck. Maybe it's my writer's block but the magazine writer version. I've not written a single line out of my rough copies in these last 3 days that I'm here. Crankier, irritated, fatigued but insomniac included with previous situations.
All I hear is 'menopause'. There she is.
Okayyy, moving on to the list. Abbey of Sainte-Trinité? Check.
Église Saint-Pierre? Check.
Musée de Norma...
•••
It was half past seven, when I was finally done with my list. And I found myself in need of some food. So I quickly put on my pea coat and a grey beanie over the beige sweater and blue washed jeans I haven't changed from my earlier outing.
Let me just say it.
I love beanies!
Like, if a straight female's embodiment of perfect male was standing beside a beanie wearing Louis XVI, I'd choose the king. Sadly.
Something's wrong with you.
Throwing the purse in the crossbody bag, I put my boots on and leave the hotel room locking it.
The cosy little restaurant across my hotel that has become my meal source since last couple of days, is my destination.
Giving the keycard to the receptionist, I step out in the cold night air of Paris, instantly noticing the lack of some gloves.
