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Sometimes you need to get lost in order to find yourself.

Sometimes you only figure who you really are through self-sabotage- and no, the answer is not found in the saboteur, the answer is found in the radiant being they are trying to suppress.

Sometimes you need to suffer and stew and ruminate, far more than is actually necessary given the initial pain or shock, to find the deep roots of joy that don’t depend on circumstance.

I went to Paris, thinking it would last for a year, and stayed until I got a permanent contract. I thought about buying a house, and sometimes I feel like I never want to leave.

In a way I feel like my time here has just begun since I’ve spent so much of my time here stuck in my head and not really enjoying it, but deeply loving it.

But maybe that’s what Paris was supposed to do, give me a beautiful place to be lost in, and such lovely surroundings I was forced to come out of myself.

I do believe that Paris is a moveable feast.

Joie de vivre is simply saying yes to life, to beauty all around and simple pleasures, and most of all, to loving who you really are.