oh, paris

My mother and I were cleaning out and organizing our bookshelves in the common room this afternoon, finding space for  (yes, finally) a tv screen, and found the old photo album and journal that my mother kept when we went to Paris one December so many years ago. I had saved up all my money, having decided that Paris was the place to be when I was ten years old, and paid for my own part of the trip. It was every bit as wonderful as I imagined, too. O la la, Paris: c'est ma ville de couer. 

Moi, en face de Notre Dame.

Je suis la petite fille la! (Can you see me on the lower steps?)

In all black, what a petite Parisienne

Amboise, the sweetest city.

In my French-lettered black t-shirt, journal in hand.

 So, you! Travel! Younger me is telling older me to get my piggy bank in gear and start saving my pennies for an adventure. Tant pis: je suis pauvre!