went out today. without him. alone -with friends, yet alone. he was not with me. it was nice.. i felt, ok. the hang over from my previous night helped to numb the explosive missing fever i've been getting lately. i shared a good chat, good laugh, seeing faces, remember some and forgetting a lot. he has been my world here in Paris, the rest seemed i can forget. it was nice to be out, except for the cold. Paris just had another change of weather -it is March, the wind is evil and cold is the devil. of course, i was dressed for spring. i'm sure i managed to shed off a few good calories.. blown away in the wind, as i walk around rigidly, wondering whose head is attached to my shoulder out of my sudden brain freeze attack. i still blamed it on the alcohol tho, no sweat.

After a film session at the embassy, i cut the night short from the rest, thinking anymore of the cold will send me to ER good for a CTScan. they let me go easily saying that i dressed like i just popped out of a film scene. it was a nice lie. these bunch are very sweet. remind me not to go out partying with them, they'd say i look like a tranny. today i was just wearing flats, above the ankle vintage (mum's) skirt with legging underneath, and a black spring tailored fitted jacket.. scarves twrilled around my head to keep them from exploading. c'est normal -and it is 'Pahghee'! But they are nice. I like them. bissous here bissous there, and voila! i went the other way.

i walked and walked and thinking that i would remember these streets by heart. it is the same route we took last summer when we first intensively dating. I reminisced how the sun glares that afternoon on the little downward street approaching Passy station; lights were seemed doubly reflected into my retina through the five stories apartment windows on both sides, the classic street lamps, the Metro bridge ahead, The Seine beyond, even from the corners of his norak racing bike that is gliding to his right. It felt like walking inside a massive crystal chandelier where the air is crisp; hot, but crisp. It was just me tho. i knew he cant see what i see at that moment. this route has been his reality for his past three years unlike my newbie eyes. i shied my eyes away from this glorious glare, turned my head to face him and opened my eyes just a little too fast too soon, such way that i got one of those white flash like visionary burn? my vision were to quickly recovered and the first thing i see was him. at first i timidly placed my hand on his arm playing blind-man; face upwards, eyes shut and took as many deep breath as i could while continuously walking. i enjoyed every second of that journey. drenching myself in feelings. knowing that such beauty is out there without having to see it thus i am gliding through it and am a part of it! i enjoyed the free feeling of being guided by his distant voice of soft spoken tales told in the outmost care to not scare me away. while i was already claiming his upper arm to be mine. or at least my hope, to be able to trust him not to bang my face into a pole. something that friends or brothers would do to you.. which later became a self-destructive habit of mine during sleepless nights. and just like that i suddenly snap into waking stage. and i was wrong earlier. i found myself lost.

Im in the intersection between rue here and avenue there. I detached my head -so i told myself. It was too cold to be upset or adventurous. All i know i just need not to be where I am. strangely but true, the streets still looks unbelievably familiar. I've been lost here before. I turned to my right and walked the extra meters to the station the group was heading to earlier on. the window shops were my companion. i enjoyed the journey by conversing with my right brain about a design line or two. It kept me warm and sane all the way to La Muette station. Line one, no choice.. i have to detour by Champs Èlysées.

I got off at Franklin looking around inside Virgin Megastore. Its british induced smell has been my solitude compare to its next door FNAC. They have some english "tings" inside. Not a lot, and this made me developed a new habit in scraping a corner of their price tags to check if their DVDs comes with english subtitles. I am supposedly be learning french -not to know french already. FNAC however, has nice collection of films less pop-ish.. downfall is id never come close to Yoda's zen level to be able to watch a korean drama in french subtitles. well, not for a while.

yes, i love my films. i ended spending about 1.5 hours browse and collect what seemed can be two hundred euros worth easily. they are mostly documentaries the kind is hard to find ones. checked my wallet and spend the next half hour browse and de-collect 2/3rd of them back to its racks. oh ya, i detached my head earlier -I AM BROKE. d-o-h!! Yet i stretched myself to get the one-offs documentaries DVD. i left Virgin more broke but more happy :).

I took George V station.