When you live in a city like Paris you stop seeing beautiful things, because they are very natural here. It’s nothing when you see Musée du Louvre, the Eiffel Tower or Notre-Dame all over again. It’s nothing when you hear someone playing a violin in the metro. It’s nothing when you hear beautiful French accent. It’s nothing when you drink a coffee in the prettiest place, reading a book or just looking at people. It’s nothing when you eat a croissant au beurre again and again. It’s nothing when you drink wine by the Seine. All of these things are normal, they became your routine.
I’ve started to notice that it became my routine too. Now, when I’ve got eight days left. I feel awful that I have to leave everything what was important for me in the last few months. I can’t say that it was good. It was fantastic.
I still have a few days, a few museums to visit, Hozier’s concert to attend but comparing it to eighteen weeks, eight days look miserable.
I wrote three pages about Paris. I wanted to do a big sum up, step by step, day by day but actually, what’s the point?
A friend of mine said one beautiful thing. It’s pretentious but okay, it’s worth it. She said that Erasmus is a break from our real life. I have done things which I would never have done in different place. I don’t know. I don’t want to say that I’m changed. I won’t be a new person or something. I still laugh a lot because of nothing and I’m still miserable inside. I still don’t have any big plans for my life. I’m thinking about something. I’m thinking about moving to Paris, moving to London, living in America for a while, I’m thinking about English literature in Scotland, Art History in Paris or English philology somewhere, because this is something what I love to do. I really don’t know. Still waiting for myself.
I have my own map of Paris. I have places I know, I like and I will always have them in my mind. Places where I was reading, listening to music, dreaming, talking, walking around. Sometimes alone, sometimes with someone else. I have places which are only mine.
I still can’t believe that I’m living in Paris. It’s an abstraction.
Back to the beginning. I’m trying to enjoy my last days in Paris. I’m enjoying wine, good conversation, good book in the caffe. Notre-Dame gives me the creeps in very good way. The tiny orchestra at Châtelet is one of my favourite sounds from here.
I will miss you.
Like a photoshoot at typical primary school but not every school has Claude Monet in the background!
Musée de l’Orangerie
Why am I writing in English from time to time? Weird thing but sometimes I can’t think in Polish. My Paris was pretty English. I haven’t used too much French, I was speaking English quite a lot, that was easier. Besides, some of my friends can’t speak Polish and I received a positive energy after the last one in English. Thanks guys! I know, I know I can make very bad mistakes but you’ll still understand ;)