It rained so hard today in Paris and I couldn’t help but laugh obnoxiously loud to myself in the downpour. I’m in Paris. I’m alone. I am light inside. I watched as people gave me dirty looks, “Who is this stupid American, why does her cackling laugh sound like a dying cow?!” Probably. And then I started to sing. For no one but myself. I’ve never been this happy before. Never in my entire life have I shed tears out of joy in the middle of a goddamn street. I cried. Out of happiness. I didn’t know this was possible.
10 . 21
Deauville and Paris and sailboats and beautiful friends and coffee and travel fiction and new lingerie and art and potential love. Start of a great vacation. I still cannot believe this is real and I’ve already lived here for two damn months.
10 . 20
It’s funny. When you leave your home and wander really far, you always think, ‘I want to go home.’ But then you come home, and of course it’s not the same. You can’t live with it, you can’t live away from it. And it seems like from then on there’s always this yearning for some place that doesn’t exist. I felt that. Still do. I’m never completely at home anywhere.
— Danzy Senna (via benauwd)
10 . 17
Today on the MBTA, someone called 911 over a lady puking on the subway, claiming she was from Liberia and had Ebola. After they had stopped train service on the Orange line, and escorted her away with a horde of cops and medical responders, it was finally established that she was actually of Haitian descent.
The Ebola epidemic is going to spin off into full-on hypochondriac racism really fast, mark my words.
10 . 17