Travel Journal #16

Back in the US. I feel sad now that Paris is so far behind me. There was something quiet and familiar about it. Perhaps I was Parisian in a past life.

I feel like I am floating into a void. Blackness lies before me; I cannot anticipate what will happen soon. My life has been interrupted, and I'm not quite sure I want it to resume. I much prefer the dream life-the life of inspiration rather than aspiration. In Paris anything was possible because there were no goals, no ambitions, no expectations. Now I have to live up to something. Live up to something others expect, and something different that I expect. See what I'm really made of. See if I can really live like the independent I imagine myself to be. See if I can actually cut the ties that bind. I feel them tightening their hold on me even now as I sit alone writing this- 1000 miles from anyone I know. I want to be strong, I want to be as I was in Paris. Content.