And it's all so simple. All I had to do in order to find myself was stumbling into three months of solitude. Solitude without loneliness. Walking streets, writing on walls, into books, on hands. Changing the small room in the middle of strangers for a quiet get-away. Abandoning my mother tongue and instead talking and dreaming in the two languages I love most.
Looking back, it seems so simple. Isn't it obvious that in order to find ourselves we must be with ourselves and get to know ourselves. After all, it's just another case of establishing a friendship.

les pensées se mettent à vagabonder

 (credit: StuddedHearts, Fashiongonerogue, TheSartorialist, and myself)

dijon, tu m'étonnes

the question is not who is going to let me, but who is going to stop me

(credit: Fanny Latour-Lambert; Fashiongonerogue)

if french universities turn their back on you...

at the end of a day when absolutely nothing went according to plan there is usually only crawling in bed with the boy who lets me know that the world will turn round no matter what. But not even this simple pleasure is granted when living abroad. so what is the second best thing to do? Yes, look at beautiful pictures and remember that tomorrow can only get better.

 credit: thesartorialist, studdedhearts, fashiongonerogue