There comes a time when your own language tastes strange inside your mouth. The words tumble from your tongue and they get twisted. You say words in another language because you forgot them in your own. And you realise that you grew out of people and experiences. All you have is memories and sometimes, they are distorted and strange and nostalgia will make you miss them. But they were not half as good as you thought they were. You feel safe for a moment when you return home. It is like you can breathe again. But there is no opportunity to grow. You are stuck again. You changed. You look at everyone around you and you wonder why they settle. And you wonder if they are happy. If they are at peace. And you ask yourself if they ever want to see more of the world, if they have a hunger for life. Maybe they do. Maybe they do not. But you realise you do. You realise you want to live your life more, to the fullest, somewhere far away from here. And it is scary to not feel safe. It is scary to change, to face new challenges. But you are hoping to find peace. In everyone you meet. In every place you live. In the end, you will realise that true freedom and peace can only be found in yourself. And when you find it, you have to guard it like the heart that is beating inside your ribcage. Like the flowers that bloom out of your mind. Guard it. And run with it. Be alive. Stay alive. Remember those strange words and learn new ones. Sweeter ones. Don’t settle.

We live on borrowed time. The past and the future is an illusion. All we really have is now. There is peace in dying because what a wonderful though it is that, after all, there is an end to all our suffering. That we will be reunited with the ones we love. We think we have so much time, but we don’t. Life is slipping trough our fingers every second. But there is so much peace in the midst of all this chaos we call life.

Paris. Endless coffee. Hours in bookshops. Long walks in the sunshine. French conversations. Cozy cafes around every corner. Poetry everywhere. Stories waiting to be written. Endless possibilities. Love.

I just wrote a long note about him to hold on to all the memories. Some things are not meant to last and that’s okay. You’re meant to meet some people but sometimes they’re not meant to stay. They’re in your life for a little bit and maybe that’s the beauty of it. They’re gone but the memories will last forever. I hope wherever he is, that he’s well. I will certainly never forget him and I’ll always thank him for all the memories we made.

I drink too much coffee and dream too much. I spend hours browsing through bookshops, sitting in cafés, writing and dreaming the world away. I want to spend my life going to flower markets, theatres, bookshops and cafés. I want a lover who sees all the magic in me and I want to see his magic too. I want to spend the nights drinking wine and talking about life. About everything I lost, I learned and I love. I want to talk about all the sadness I carry with me but how I choose to wake up everyone morning not letting it defeat me. How I choose to see the magic in everyday. I want to drink black coffee and eat croissants for breakfast. I want to explore magical cities and get lost in strangers stories. I want to live life to the fullest because it’s way too short to not make the most of it.