i want to walk along the champs-elysees and sit at cafes and eat macarons all day and make fun of silly americans (obviously, i’d have shed this identity by the time i land at the charles de gaulle airport) and master the art of french chic-ness (and perhaps the french braid too) and meet french boys and wear berets…
it’s getting really difficult to let go of this dream lately. i just want to transplant my life for a year.
