Sep 17 - Underneath it all

Reading back over my previous posts, I think I come across as quite cheerful, living a life of nothing but good times.

It has been good times. But Paris often makes me bitter and morose and I don't write about that. Some days I'm so fed up with being here. It's grey. It's walls and cement, noise and pollution. It's drawn faces and distance between me and other people. I don't know why, but it does something to me that erodes my spirit. This is no place for me.

It's time to get out.