I will say what I am afraid to say: I want a life full of romance.

That is in part why I wish to go back to France. I was and still am craving to see Paris. I burst out in tears while at the aiport thinking I should forget about my luggage, think not about money and run. “I should care not, I will figure it out.”

I crave for love, it has me malnourished. This nothing else can cure. Only another soul. I crave for another soul to love, to take care of, to deeply revere. I soften so much, my ego becomes a melted sweet mess of an icecream in the pavement of a busy street in a large city under the sun. I spin like a ballerina in love. I become a blooming garden of flowers, I become intensely alive.

My soul is fed by this human connection alone. Other than this love, my soul is fed by the perception of transcendence and sublime beauty as well as the possibility of alternate realities and alien life. This is all woven in the same tapestry to me. This keeps me in a trance.

Oh dear reader, if I could only convey to you my longing for love…