I am charmed by this sad, solid, nameless woman in the same color as the sea.
The Leaning Tower of Pisa: sweet little underdog with a quirk no one could correct. There's a lesson in there somewhere.
We love to glamorize the wealthy and dead, as if fine clothes and cakes work to redeem suffering.
My quietly spontaneous trip to Èze would morph into a fun, frenzied journey to three different cities (one of them a country, if we're being specific). We would be climbing up a hill to a pink mansion, running to catch trains, eating gelato in Monaco, and falling asleep over a late dinner of pizza. I wouldn't get home until after midnight. But of course, I didn't know any of that yet.
The best thing about waking up in the morning–or returning to my petit chez moi at any time of day–is the view from my balcony: the brilliant bay outlined by mountains. I come from the part of Missouri that's just barely not-Kansas. Deprived of elevation for so long, any hint of it makes me giddy. Mountains comfort …