Can Spring come any sooner? It’s almost April and I’m still lugging around a wool coat (well that’s not too fair as I’m quite a tropical fish).
My head falls back to Spring last year in Paris when a walk in the park was more a pleasure than a chore, when chirpy birds were rather cheery and not freaky, when people-watching inspired movies in my head, and flowers actually made my day.
Je suis la.
Come on, now Spring. I’m waiting.
Because it’s not a proper visit without macarons.