s-NO!-w. (Yes)

I'm in the teacher's lounge at work because I'm snowed in in Huelma! I wish I had my camera here because it is so beautiful today. It's snowing so hard--I haven't seen snow like this in years. And there's thunder, too, which is crazy! The man who drives my carpool came bursting into my classroom today and told me we had to leave immediately. I think he wanted to try to beat the bad weather and the snow piling up on the roads. But, alas, we failed this mission as we came upon a stretch of road that we couldn't pass. We would have needed chains (which, silly man, he doesn't have even though he works in the mtns and drives there 5 days a week). So we turned around and it took us forever to get back because the entrance to the town was really backed up with traffic and stranded cars. Finally, we made it back to the colegio (the school where I work) and I'm here for another 15 until we "go eat" and then "see what happens". The good thing is that I have the choice of like 3630478 places to stay tonight and I can actually hang out with Adrian, the other auxiliar who works at the high school. He's totally cool and we never get the opportunity to spend time together. So this will be great!

Today, also, of course, I'm in the process of washing my coat so I don't have a good coat with me. Or a hat. Or water resistant shoes. In fact, I am wearing the worst shoes possible: the shoes with the most holes in them (note the use of the word 'most', which, yes, indicates that ALL of my shoes currently have holes in them. mierda. look u guys; i'm totally pobre!)

All the kids are leaving school. Parents are arriving in a straight stream to retreive their kids early and retreat into their homes. Half the people here are stressed today, and the other half have receded into laugh it off & celebrate it-mode. I'm joining the team of the latter. Adventure tiiiiiiiime :) !!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3

What's Going on in Granada? Post vacation reflection..

Dreaded update regarding Granadian life:

Dreaded, why? Because life here isnt yet. Don't feel alive in this space. After a long conversation with Daniel last night, things will be different. I came up with this really great idea to start an "idea map" because I'm always having ALL these ideas, ALL the time. Like ALL the time I can't stop. It's stuff like what I want to do in Granada, with my immediate future, long projects, carreer rumiations, small and big artist projects, books to read, fields to get into, new hobbies, people to connect with, places, life goals, etc. I'm always making these small little lists that are like do this do that, think about this think about that. Often just a bunch of stuff vomited onto my dry erase board that functions more as mind vomit than the attempted "calander" (which I can never keep). BUUUTTTT(!), since I am such a visual person (my mind works visually), I am going to make a MAP. A huge map that I'll put up on my wall and write in Pencil and I'll web it out, and connect and span and arrow and create and recognize, realize, come full circle maybe sometimes, and jump out on a ledge into nothingness and discover unknown universes sometimes. This map will be cool because it will be a central, eternal place where I can put all my ideas down and with the visual span, I can understand them, they'll have a relationship and logical birthplaces and I can reconnect them and see them in new ways in relation to the new things that come up. And I can see paths developing. I can maybe cross things out of I complete them, or highlight them if they are of utmost concern at the MOMENT, etc. I think it will be absolutely Fabulous. I'm thinking HUGE sheet of Butcher Paper on my wall. But, huge.
So I think you have the right to know, after my lengthy Paris rant, what the H I have been doing in Granada. Moving in. Getting settled. Understanding that their is ground beneth my feet. I know I don't want to be set still right now (which a L-I-F-E in a fixed place seems to effectively require), but I am, post-5am conversation with Daniel, thinking of Granada and this staple (as staple holding me down) as an opportunity to center on projects, namely Novel writing, writing in general (regular schedule and tangeable production), and my new idea to start a (much needed) visual and literary arts magazine in Granada [I know there is all this talent here that people keep inside of their houses. That is the nature of Granada. There is a lot of creative activity going on here, but unfortunately it is all just this festering stuff inside of peoples' personal walls--they come here to escape, so you get this. It's not like people are putting their shit out in the public up in front of peoples' faces, like they are in other (magestical) places like New York, or Berlin for example. Noone's trying to *Aspire, their just trying ta live. Daniel captured this essence of Granada well last night. He said people come here to this magical world so that they can just BE. They don't have to DO, they can be, in peace. I think this is a HUGE thing that bothers me about Granada that I can feel in between lines in a way that not a lot of other people can and therefore they can't understand my frustration (I can't talk to most people about this because they don't understand, it seems. I mean, you know. This language isn't one that most people are used to speaking. I'm just a freaaaaaak [F&Z, F&Z]).

I will most likely be moving residences (yes, hold your screams, friends. It's okay, I think) because functioning without the amenity of wireless internet is causing me more problems than I'd like to deal with at the moment. I think it will really make things so much more relaxed here if I can just used the internet at my friggin house and in the middle of the night at 4am if I'm thinking about someone or if I need to know how to say chilli in German or something. Seriously. I don't think I'm going to ship out to Huelma, even though I hope to get in as much traveling as possible, but I think with these new aspirations to do cool-er shit in Granada, I really need Granada as a resource. It's just energy-suicide to move out to Huelma, so I think that will be officially off my list.

Boy:
Although I meet like 032953845 people when I'm traveling, comradery in Granada is still wanting. Frreal I spend most of my time nowadays with this guy I'm dating, Daniel. I think there have been past blogs mentioning him (dont have internet right now so I can't check this, just have to speculate and will probably change this before I post it and after I check, but its more likely that I won't change it or even read over this part at all to know that I thought about changing it!). He's from Tel Aviv, Israel and has been living in Granada for 2 years. He's totally interesting, has lived all over (London, Canada, Buenos Aires) and traveled a ton. He grew up in Tel Aviv in a family of actors, but both his parents are Romanian so he A) Has EU citizenship, and B) speaks Hebrew, Romanian, Spanish & English all fluently, and a decent amount of French and Arabic. Right now he's in the process of getting an international art sales website up and running, a project he's working on with 2 other people in Granada where he is their PR-person. He makes electronic music and stays up late because he'll get overwhelmed with inspiration and I'll wake up and he'll have all this shit out in the room and notebooks just filled with stuff. He's Super into cognitive processes and modification. Like he meditates and will swear on breathing exercizes, and is always reading new things about Consciousness and alternate states of consciousness. And he writes scripts and screenplays and his grandmother is really old but still one of the most successful actors in Israel. He says that when the 3rd world war comes--and its going to come--we will be hugely responsible because we know it's going to come and what are we doing about it. He wants to help with crisis in Israel using his music, and he's super gorgeous with some of the most striking, beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen and he has one of the most beautiful cats in the world. He's totally crazy, thinks I am a fairy, and, as of two days ago has taken to calling me The Muse. Sounds cool, but still, I'm quite partially satisfied
Can we talk about his rooftop terrace and hammock, with views of snow-covered Sierra Nevada Mountains? Or maybe the fact that he has an actual, functioning fireplace in his living room? Yeah. Talk talk.

I need to make more money to be able to make more things happen and to not feel so stressed out by my absurdly tight budget. I have some ideas for this. Also, because I really *have to buy a bike and would like to buy a guitar (I'm really into solo singing with the guitar at the moment and I think I could do this. Just gotta start out with those callouses) and travel back to Paris and to Portugal and northern Africa and maybe to Amsterdam to visit a friend (Hi, Max!).

Can you have a Love Affair with a City? Well, I did.

Shag me at the top of the staircase, Paris.

Correct. I am in love.

Surely one’s experience of every place one visits is entirely dependent upon a myriad of things that have nothing, really, to do with the PLACE itself, but stuff like, where are with yourself in your life at that time, your health, who you’re with, the weather, your budget, your accommodations, who you meet there, how courageous/reserved you’re feeling, etcetc. Well I know that, and I’m sure that has affected a million places I’ve visited, but regardless of the reasons, and I think perhaps at any other time and in any other context, I still would have fallen head over heels for the place we call Paris.It's simply amazing, and especially for a literary nerd like myself, and especially for a sucker and lover and a kid who functions off of Beauty. The core essence from which Paris gets any of its inspiration to do anything, is beauty. If anything exists in Paris, it is beauty. It's like, Paris and Parisians understand that life is beautiful and creative and inspiring/inspired, so if anything were to ever come from Paris, it comes from
this, it operates off of this and this is its core. Things rarely exist only for their functional use, but they function and are interesting, beautiful, have character. I found this everywhere I went.

Lit nerds get Lucky:
Excellente legacy of writers just taking over this town, living here, visiting here, networking here, being inspired here and Paris as a subject. I visited Hemingway's old house, saw Voltaire's old writing desk, visited the Cafe where Hemingway often wrote (his favorite cafe) and where an epic argument between Tristan Tzara & Andre Breton aparrantly put an end to the Dada movement in Paris. The cafe itself was a hangout for the lits and the intellectuals in Paris. The coolest thing we encountered, though, was Shakespeare & Co.!!!!! This phenomenal old bookstore that's got a legendary presence in Paris and the Parisian lit scene. It used to function as a bookstore/semi-hostel for working writers. There are and were these couches throughout the store where you can read--like a library. The first floor of the bookhouse operates as a bookstore and upstairs is more like a library--nothing's for sale, but your are encouraged to hang out and read away. Here is where all of the couches are. During the peak years of Shakespeare and Co., all sorts of writers made traffic through the bookstore and took up temporary residence on a couch of sacred floor. Jack Kerouac used to crash there!! Now I think they still semi-operate in that way, although that's a little unclear. Upstairs there is a piano and a typewriter. Will obsessed over piano, and I over typewriter, hunched and clicking like the serious mad-woman that I am. Then I bought leaves of Grass (aaaaa) for 5 euro and ran into this woman who asked me what I was hacking away at madly at the typewriter. We chatted for a little and turns out she used to be a writer and used to sleep on the couches of the old place!! She met her husband here (who she was traveling with at the present moment) and eventually left because she became pregnant with her first kid (who, aparrantly, was almost born in the bookstore) and then named her 2nd or 3rd (dont remember) after a character from the first book she ever read at Shakespeare. Her whole family was with her at the time. They'd come back to visit during the holidays. She said it was very important to her that her kids knew the place because their own stories are so tied up with it. Also, I found out about a tea party going on at the apartment of the old owner, George, who is in his 80s or 90s (his daughter runs the shop now--see photo). The apartment is above the shop, and George is the founder of S & C, so he's been there through everything, which is amazing. He's got to be a phenomenal guy, but we didn't get to speak with him. Aparrantly, he's hard to come by nowadays, because he's in quite frail condition, but we were lucky enough to get to experience him breifly. When Will and I arrived at the tea party, George had just come in from an afternoon walk and was heading towards his room. Aparrantly, he's a really rare appearance nowadays and we were "lucky" to have gotten to be around George (even if just for a breif moment). The tea party was quite the fab event, hosted by this quirky British lovely maybe in her 50/60s. An artist (paint), poet, intellectual (she is currently writing a book about....ah....I think it falls under the subject of art history, but she spoke of her work literally in conversation with other philosophers [whos' names, of course, I don't remember..] and of the style of the work being something entirely new and different, breaking out of the mold of patriarchial, intellectual, historical structure. Cool!) named Panmelis, or Pamela LesChevin. In attendence were some old dudes from back in the day, frequenters of the S&C scene in the past, here on vacation and had decided to stop in at the old place and see what was up. There was this really obnoxiously NewYorkian NYer (Yale-educated!!! of course he let us know that) who spoke sooo NewYork-ey and was com*PLETEly oblivious to the fact that there were many people there who didn't speak English as their first language. And he kept looking everything up on his godawful iPhone (I hate when people use it that way--I mean literally it becomes a presence in a group. It's like their talking to *it so much or using it so much, that it could just be another person. I'd prefer to spend that time and energy on people in the precious moments when we are actually together like that. Anyway, rant!). He's a book collecter and has the largest collectiong of blahblah I dont remember. Finally, he *did manage to drop the names of all the Ivy league schools where his children are in attendence. AND he read an ODE off of his Iphone and recited a Shakespeare sonnet from memory (both,
way too fast) Then there was *John David Reagan, a really enthusiastic and long-winded Historian, who writes and goes to CRAZY CRAZY lengths to do research (he told us some epic stories...I love it) and works, actually, on the Alasking oil lines. He does his work for 6 months, saves up enough money, and then goes traveling and doing research and writing the rest of the time. He'd decided that he didn't want to get caught up in the backstabbing, throatclenching world of higher academia and all its naught politics, so, after attaining his PhD, he went to Alaska and continued on the work that he'd semi-sought ought to earn a couple bucks during college. Interesting life. He told me I should start writing for a magazine,journal,newspaper in Granada and that that'd be great for my resume. Word up, J.D. There was this Canadian-Asian dude named Alan who was just hilarious because he was always getting a little riled up about something. Like he was frustrated, or somebody didn't understand him correctly, or he
had some slight, quiet intellectual qualm with something someone else had said, but he kept getting sort of secretly, passiveaggressively frustrated, and you could tell that he left, feeling like he didn't get out what he needed to get out, and that he came just feeling frustrated, about himself and his life (he read a poem) and dammit he left the same way. Alan attempts writership but is very humble about it. There was this crazy old British dude who aparrantly had been a part of it for forever. I think he was a very well known British television personality for a while in the past, and an accomplished journalist. There was this adorable ethnically Morroccan, culturally Parisian girl named something like Patience or something like that who was just lovely and tender and intelligent and knowledgable. She, apparrantly, had been part of the club for awhile, growing up in Paris, but lately had been busy with University where she studies English literature. There were two Belgians who popped in late that spoke very little English, some wierd dude who showed up really late, some American and his cousin who stayed for maybe 15 mins (the real curious and interested American tourist types. Awesome.), an Italian physics professor (smart guy with an interest in a lot of different things--philos & lit knowledgable) and this cool Mexican law student in her lower 20s who'd spent a lot of time living abroad (used to live in Paris..was here visiting during her break) and currently attends school in the DF, which she likes (I asked her). She was a sweetheart. So the bunch was wonderful and an eclecticly hilarious mix, the tea was amazing, and the host so pleasant. She was so enthusiastic about art and literature and LIFE!!! So positive, just expounding beautiful, brilliant energy. JD invited me to a dinner party at some big deals house in Paris. It was to cost 35 Euro and all sorts of lit ppl would be there, publishers, editors, writers, and such, and it would be good for my networking purposed, but it A) was a little late to try to finagle a place in the table tonight, and B) I dont really think Will wanted to go--for 35 Euro, that is, but I really wanted to. I took it as my chance. But I got JD and the guy who runs the parties' info, so I will hopefully make it around for the next fiesta. Well, I mean, I must. This is one of the things that I will plan my next Paris visit around. That and a good reading at Shakespeare & Co and one of their writers' workshops. I am also looking into volunteering there in June (they have a festival or something going on) and trying to procure a job, maybe??...?? Needless to say, I will be back, and I will rage.

Walt Whitman was a genius.

Other highlights of Paris included the Couchsurfing Christmas party (complete with a Christmas kiss), the next day when I returned to the flat to retreive my umbrella/re-befriended the dude who threw the party. We hang for a little and then I asked him what would be great to do on a nice day in Paris and he drew my a hilarious map and then I asked his couchsurfer if she wanted to come along and then he realized that HE wanted to come along, too! We went on an amazing trek to the edges of Paris, in the tiny neighborhoods where Paris lives without the beast of tourism. It was quieter, liveable. We strolled around, and all in attendence ended up being totally fascinating. His couchsurfing was the cool cool chick from China who is studying in Sweden and currently hitchhiking around Europe (!!!--she has practice and has been 'training' with an experienced friend for awhile). Then Julien was amazing and him and I ended up talking for EVER..he wrote his first novel at 23(MY AGE!!), and has written 2 others. They were successes and at the begining of his life, therefore, he was rich. He started doing film and is currently a director, runs a production company with one of his roommates, who produces. He lives with a sculptor, dancer, actress and producer (did I get that right, Julien?). There place is PHENOMENAL. A really breathtaking old building of 4 floors with the most gorgeous detailed architecture and scaffolding(?) outside. Their bottom floor is a theater and the rest of the space is all living-working studios, which, of course, are always phenomenal. J told me I NEEDED to finish a book by the next time I saw him and gave me a link to check out his work. He led us to the BEST lookout point of Paris that could ever have existed and we happened to hit this point right as the sun began to set so we got to watch the most beautiful sunset in Paris from the best possible position in the city. It was phenomenal. Paris is SO beautiful in the sunset. Will and I were lucky enough to have seen the sun set almost every day during our trip. Then J took us all to this GORGOEUS park (but not until he'd first shown us the building he is going to buy with his good friend Keziah Jones [a ridiculously awesome musician...you should know him if you don't]--the site is this GORGEOUS old detailed whopper of a building. Totally beautiful and they want to turn it into a concert hall together) with all these hills, this beautiful citadel on top of the hill where you have, yet again, amazing views of the city (Here we saw a RAINBOW!!!). There was a semi-frozen lake that was just gorgeous and this suspension bridge hanging over the lake. Breathtaking, again. Then we strolled along the canal for awhile and ended up at Julien's
favorite coffee shop for warm drink. Then, we departed for the night was aging and we hadn't realized. That was my favorite day in Paris, just exploring the outsides and finding surprising treasures and confirming that every goddamn inch of that place is seeping with pure and honest beauty. Other cool things were the old, famous cemetary in Paris where all of these famous people are buried (Wilde, Proust, Jim Morrison, for example). The cemetary reminded me of a little town..all the graves and gravesites were so ornamental and involved and interested. The cemetary itself was just beautiful, even, and here, we watched the sun set, too. It was our first sunset in Paris. We also went to the Pompidou Modern Art Museum (which was RIGHT by where we stayed--AND we managed to get in for FREE, versus the 12 euro entry!!! Worked magic!!) [here, I spent a good 30 minutes in front of a video entitled Heartbeats. It was me and this one dude who sat the whole thing out], saw the Eiffel Tower light up at night, literally SPARKLE like 1000 diamonds. We walk out of the subway and all of a sudden it starts
glittering and we are awestruck. It is so beautiful. And we walk up to it and around it and there is this little park to the side of it where you can see the sparkling reflection in the water and ahhh. I didn't have my camera, though, so the only photographic capture I have of it is on my cell phone, unfortunately. Then we strolled along the Seine to make our way home, and randomly ran into gorgeous buildings and the Louvre. This entire night happened because we were supposed to go to a jazz show with a friend I made at the party, but the plans fell through so Will and I improvised.

Do you want to know where all the overalls in the world went? They went to Paris.

I also spent an hour in the tub after splitting a bottle of wine.

Unfortunately, I fell ill the day that William left so my last bit of time in Paris was greatly affected by a head cold, sore throat, and cold weather (not friends), but I was able to spend some time with Lucas (a friend I met in the mountains of India), Alyssa and her buddies (fellow auxuliar living in Granada), and forget my passport. ! Yes. I forgot my passport as I headed to Paris' Orly airport and eventually, missed my flight to Montpellier. It was kind of a mess, but I got it worked out and was able to land a spot on a flight the next day for a reasonable fee. Lucas came to my rescue that night and I met up with him and some friends at an Italian place and later crashed with him. Finally, I made it out to Montpellier, where my sickness kept gripping me ever-more tightly. It was great to see Emanuel, but unfortunately he was also under the weather during our first day together--some sort of stomache flu. I only got worse while he improved. Our first night we stayed with some couchsurfers who introduced us to fabulous french beer and an amazing french dinner which included the BEST bread of my life (olive bread that their friend brings to them from some place in france). The rest of Montpellier was honestly just me battling with this terrible cold, trying to stay warm, and spending time with E, Nick & his girlfriend Brooke in Nick's apartment, which the occassional trip around the city. This is nowhere *near my typical way of travel, but what with the cold weather and my unhealthy condition, I had no choice but to take it easy. I think they could have done the same things, though, even if I hadn't been sick... which is...well...not really my style, but hey! I am a little insane.

Begining and Ending Legs of my Trip: Yeah, because those are surely stories, too. So I told you about FRANCE (Some, not nearly all. All would take up too much of both of our time, but if you DO want more information, I have it!! email me for missing stories, etc. Ask me about baguettes, or french boys, etc), but what about what happened before I arrived there and after I left??? Well, I started my whole journey by taking a bus from Granada to Madrid, where I was to catch a flight to Paris. I'm chilling in the Madrid airport, people in my flight start lining up; I follow. They announce that our flight (like nearly every flight going anywhere cold that day) would be delayed. They told us to stay tuned to find out the gate assignment and departure time. I took a short nap then checked the screen, which said our flight was to depart from a gate at different part of the airport, and that it was to depart at 7. I go near to the new gate and sit with a coffee for awhile, writing away. Around 6 o'clock I go to check the screen again, just in case. I don't see my flight anywhere on the screen. I go to the information desk to ask what's going on and the guy tells me my flight just left 3 minutes ago. And I'm like WHAT. I was SO upset and felt so dumb and stupid like it was totally my fault and maybe i just read the screen wrong or something and I just felt awful. Especially since I know that RyanAir does NOTHING to help you in situations like this and that I would have to buy an entire new flight immediately out of pocket. I go downstairs and wait in the HOUR line to figure out what I am to do. I see another girl in line who seems to have a similar expression on her face and I ask her if she was going to Paris. "yes!", she says, freaking out. Turns out we had the exact same thing happen to us, along with two Brazilian girls further behind us in line. We eventually make our case and all get flights out the next day, but RyanAir refuses to pay for anything, like the hotel or transportation to and from the hotel, food, etc, which most airlines would do, seeing that the mix up was their fault. Bleh. Well, anyway, the girls and us ban together for awhile, the Brazilian girls trying to come up with some sort of plan, since their hotel in Paris was already paid for that night and they would now only have 2 days in Paris (at most) with this lost day. Eventually, Larissa (German girl living in Paris) decide to head out so that we can do something in Madrid that night, and we book it to the center of town where we grab a hostel and then head out for a drink (at this point it is quite late). We're strolling around town, looking for an enticing place to make an appearance, and, well, I have these street smarts and traveling intution (that perhaps I have developed over the years) and I know that you just don't talk loudly in English late at night when you're a traveler. You're just making yourself a vulnerable and a target, so I had my guard on when Larissa was yelling about. I felt this man walking behind us and I just didn't feel right about it. I had half a mind to stop and let him pass, and then explain to Larissa later, but didn't, just kept my guard up, very alert. All of a sudden, I feel him unzip my bag. I whipped around, pushed him, and started going off on him in Spanish. It came out of my so rapidly and fluidly, I didn't even know what I was saying, but I was totally telling him off as if I were native and he freaked out, because he thought we were just oblivious tourists, and eventually he goes "eres loca", and walks away, and then I yelled something at him as he left, but I don't remember what, but it was a shining moment. That's never happened to me before and I was totally impressed with myself by how I handled it. I was really aggressive and commanding, and my Spanish! My Spanish kicked ass and I freaked him out. // Well the next day we toured the city for a little, ran back to the airport, where we met two darling Italian girls on the Metro (who reminded us of the Brazlians and had nearly the same names--freaky twilight zone kinda shit) who we accidently lost. At the airport we met the Brazilian ladies, again. We all stuck together for awhile and then, guess what, the flight was delayed AGAIN. We were all 4 very cautious this time, making ABSOULTELY SURE that all of the information was right this time. Lounging around for awhile, I met Monique, this amazing little Santa Barbara-in with spunk and hilarity in tow. We had some laughs and whiled away the time pretty well. On the bus from the Beauvis airport to the metro station, her and I shared a good heart to heart convo. Everyone parted ways and I eventually found Augustin's flat where the magic began.The Return: Yeah so I'm taking a bus from Montpellier to Girona, which is the largest Spanish city north of Barcelona. It's in Catalunya. I took the bus there because that's where the RyanAir "Barcelona" airport is and that's where I'd be flying out. The bus arrived at 8pm and originally, my plan was to just crash in the airport for the night and catch my 7am flight bright and early. With my sickness, I rethought this idea, because roughing it just didn't seem like what the doctor ordered. Instead, I found a hostel in the city and crashed there for the evening, which would work out because there was an early bus to the airport in the morning. I walk into my hostel room and run into this kid who was on my bus. We decide to go out for a potential drink after he's done some stuff on the net. I go down to the common room, eat some cheese (though I can't really taste) and read sme F&Z. He is aparrantly done, come sits down next to me and asks what I'm reading. This begins the next 10 hours of amazingness. Andres was SO AWESOME. He's from Bogota, Columbia, studying Evolutionary Biology in Holland, is like THE best listener I have met in a hell of a long time, is totally intelligent and fascinating and his favorite book is The Unbearable Lightness of Being. He recommended all sorts of cool stuff to me and just came back from the Canary Islands. We talked about literature, religion, spirituality, childhood, evolution, hispanic culture and immgration, linguistics, etc etc. In the morning, we left for the airport together at quarter to 4 and hung out in the airport until his flight, playing madeup card games involving things like animal noises and hilariousness. He was one of the better folks I've met on the road. His English was nearly impeccible. I have a feeling I'll be seeing this kid again.

That "book" was Franny & Zooey ('book' is in quotes, because, ha!, it is totally not a 'book'. It
defies bookness and evolves into something else) which, YES!, I am currently re-reading. Oh how I love that book. Alex, you know you and mother are sort of reminding me of Zooey and Mrs. Glass. Think about it and be careful (I sound like Buddy here, do I??). I MISS YOU!

I've kept in touch with a fair amount of people from this trip and from Paris, which means,
undoubtably, I will be going back soon. There are some upcoming events at Shakespeare & Co that I'd like to attend/be a part of, and I now have all sort of people to crash with.