Day 139 to 162 – Paris

On Wednesday next week I’ll be flying back to Australia.

I’m feeling so many mixed emotions about it. It’s strange to think this is coming to an end. This trip, which was the marker between then and now. Old life and new life.

I think what I’m feeling is a weird mix of sadness, accomplishment, excitement. I’m sad because I really just want to stay in Paris forever. I feel a sense of accomplishment because I fucking did it. And I’m excited for a long list of reasons. To see family and friends. To order a flat white. To eat a mango. To be warm. To swim in the ocean. To start bringing to life the plans I’ve dreamed up while I’ve been away. A tiny house in Stanthorpe, where I can live in between many more adventures, far and wide.

I’m excited because I’ve already made plans to return to this part of the world. The flights are booked, and I’ll be back for the summer.

I’m excited because this isn’t the end, it’s just the beginning.

And I still have one week left in Paris.


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