I miss New York. I'll go ahead and say it. After putting together a couple of NYC guides this week, I began to think about my old habits. Loading myself down with groceries in Manhattan and taking the metro back to Brooklyn, in misery. The route that I took daily, and have now begun to forget the names of the streets. My little flat at 123, the place I called my own, but shared with a cat named Frida.

Things like this restaurant aren't as common in Paris as I had anticipated before I moved here. Sorry Paris, but your restaurants don't hold a candle to new york.

And maybe the people wouldn't mind if I slept on the couch after dinner. That would be nice.

(found via cher ami)

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