Back from Paris.

I've eaten more butter than I usually do in two weeks, and that's saying a lot.

I had a conversation with an older French gentleman named Joseph for ten minutes. In French. He complimented me on it.

Pure joy when I could read the signs and adverts and what have you. Finally, a language I can use in everyday life.

I am drained and rejuvenated.

Montmartre Cemetery was peaceful, not creepy, and beautiful. Sat on a tree-lit avenue which divided the graveyard and breathed in. Time felt slower there, sluggish, lazy.

Wanted so desperately to capture non-touristy Paris, but realized this is impossible as practically all of Paris consists of tourists.

Sigh. Back to England, with Parisian chocolates and cheese in hand to get me through the months.