She loved life and it loved her right back.
She saw every ending as a new beginning.
She colored her thoughts with only the brightest hues.
She was an artist and her life was her canvas.
She crossed borders, recklessly, refusing to recognize
limits, saying bonjour and buon giorno as though she
owned both France and Italy and the day itself.
She designed a life she loved.

the sequel

I think in my old age my memory is starting to fail me. Maybe it's the alcohol...Anyway, this is a good memory sparker.

I'm in the middle of finals, so naturally there's no better time to revamp and reignite a blog I haven't touched in 3 years.

miss me?