No snow has fallen on the land around our house, but with the first day of winter, we found a new cold and fresh rain. The orange and red leaves of autumn cling to the trees and line the streets and we no longer leave the house without first finding a jacket or the promise of a warm destination.
I'm shut away in our study looking out towards grey skies and the trail of the wind on the trees and the leaves. As I finish off my last two assignment before my university break I'm longing to be smarter, better with words and more astute with the expression of my thoughts - but while flailing, I've found myself here.
This is winter in Paris three and a half years ago. After a few more days locked away with books, literature readings, and the high hopes of amazing essays; I'll be lost in someone else's story, reading all things not predetermined for me to read.