You found me. Many tears have been shed since my last endeavor to France over 5 years ago. I've matured some since then too, my growth as palpable as the 3 feet of hair blooming from my head. But my desire to return has remained acutely constant throughout the years - anyone who knows me well will attest to this. I fastened myself to France after a mere 10 days, albeit a most eventful 10 days. I first started crying on the day after I came back- I was terribly sick and jet lagged but the need to revere the entire experience was much more pressing at the moment. I was 17 and I thought it was a one time thing. I was wrong. 

But my crying should not be taken as a bad thing, far from it actually. I like to think of it this way: usually my joy for France is a pleasantly calm yet lively little watering hole. But then I'll listen to Erik Satie's Gnossienne No. 1 or watch Catherine Deneuve in Les Parapluies de Cherbourg and that placid puddle starts to deluge on its own. So much so that my body fails to contain this swelling flood until it reaches my eyes- where relief is achieved through the cascading of tears. 

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To return to the place that carved a home in my heart is absolutely gratifying. And I am quite delighted to document it for an audience... to share this experience with! I hope to inspire some joyous tears among readers and just know that I, too, will be doing the same.