flâneur

the paris diaries - by Isabel - Mind Mine

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where my mind goes when i don't give it instruction

You can read the paris diaries part 2 here. My face seems to blend into many places. I often get approached as though I am from where I am visiting. People speak to me in their native tongue expecting a casual response, only to raise their eyebrows in surprise when I open my mouth to reveal my highly unexotic Canadian accent timidly spewing English at them. Maybe there’s a paradox there: that in my alleged home I was always perceived to be a foreigner, and in the places I’m actually foreign to, I seem to fit right in. It makes sense to me, though: I never really felt like I fit in where I…

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