paris est un fête

Sometimes things are more beautiful in black and white — even sunflowers.

It’s been a draining last few months, I won’t lie to you. School has been soul sucking, my family and I are still in mourning, it’s hot and humid and there’s no real way to escape the summer heat. I get light headed just walking outside for more than five minutes.

I have been in desperate need of a quiet, basic Sunday with my best friend in this no-longer-foreign city I call home. And today I got that.

Meeting before the summer heat kicked in, while the vendors set up shop for the Sunday market (Marche Mouffetard in case you were wondering), Isabelle and I had a basic bitch Sunday for the books. We didn’t even plan it, but we matched (no surprise, since we’re pretty much always on the same wavelength) and spent the morning gossiping and taking in the atmosphere while we downed croissants and espresso while church bells chimed and an old French man played “La vie en rose” on his accordion. Magic.

And as per usual, we took some fire pics.

Here’s to more days like this with people you love.

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