01/05 2259 St. German des près

01/05 2259 St. German des près

Musée d'Orsay.

Neo et postimpressionniste m'a fait plaisir.

-small separate dots of colors

-small sketches

-Femme à l'ombrelle

-Seurat

-Signac

-Henri Edmond Cross

-l'air du soir 1893

-Femme étendant du ligne

-Pissarro

-Odalisque allongée

-Courbet/L'origine du monde

-Opéra du Garnière / mode

-Degas/sculpture

-Allée centrale des Sculptures

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My life has become daily since mom left.

Waking up generally at seven fifteen, I eat the breakfast, write postcard or diary.

I watch the sky from only streetlightness, to blue, to blue white, to white and beige, and to clouds.  They are wonderful.

I read on the metro, count down the stations, dangers, scenes, and days to home.

I visit museums and shops, seeing wonders and beauty, but hard to make the complex written out.

If you have nothing to say, come and sit by me.

I buy books, postcards, and occasionally food.

(The breakfast is boring but at least free, so better feed enough to sustain the afternoon till evening.)

I stop by the coiffure and watch the price of simply cutting a hair, and walk away.

I become used to the people, stink, and filthiness, and still feel it pretty.

A guy from the épicerie attempted to sell me something at 78 euros which i can buy at a normal price of 6.2.  Ain't i smart?

Weather hits me sometimes, but it's easier to accustom to that than the, well, i don't know what is not endurable.  

Speaking french is easy, cuz all i need to say everyday is greetings and oui; zero affected interaction.

Sometimes i post out a question and understand an answer in return, which gives me purely huge sense of achievement.

By the black falls, there are times i walk like run; or in the metro, i sometimes walk like run.  It is more than simply danger,time, or exercise, cuz my left feet hurt like hell; it is others, except tourists, mostly the locals walk like late for being born.

I wrote in my diaries that i should slow down here, but it's hard, way too hard.  Waiting the sunrise become the slowest time of my daily life.

By eight, if not a movie, i go back to the St. Christophers, on the girls-only-floor, with 11 other roommates, mostly spanish and italian speaking.  The girl on my upper bunk is gorgeous.  She left this morning.

I read and write, or plan before sleep.  I fall to dark once my head touches the strange stuffed pillow, even if people talking loud.

live routinely.-aim.

strict routine.-aim.

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太多好課要修，不延畢怎麼行？