Number 12
12. Walking home on our last night in Paris. A runner jogs past us, points his finger at us and exclaims: “BuskTillDawn, right? You guys are the best!”
12. Walking home on our last night in Paris. A runner jogs past us, points his finger at us and exclaims: “BuskTillDawn, right? You guys are the best!”
2 weeks after the trip ended, and the memories are already starting to reorder themselves in unpredictable ways. Here are some prominent ones right now: 1. A 15-euro salad of grandiose proportions at a Parisian cafe. God what didn’t that thing have? There were potatoes crisped to perfection, dressing like a vinegar-y nectar, and meat [...]