I was walking aimlessly through the streets of the small, french town.
I was mesmerised by everything that was happening around me. My senses were overwhelmed. I was flirting with the scent of mulled whine, while the cold was busy painting my cheeks red. There was wonder everywhere. Just like the carousel that welcomed me every time I left the hostel to explore the town, I was waltzing ’round and ’round, looking at wonderful places and smiling to all those beautiful people. And then it started snowing and I felt as if the heavens themselves were waltzing with me. A familiar feeling started taking over me. It became my companion. I didn’t realize, at first, what it was and why did I feel like we were old pals. But then one night, while the sweetness of that caramel cover apple was filling every bone in my body with joy, that very moment when my senses were drunk, tangled in that tiny piece of heaven; it hit me. My companion, that feeling that allowed me to feel like home in that foreign land… that was magic. The same magic that surrounded me as a child waiting for Santa… magic; the one that gave me a thrill every time I would listen to gradma’s stories; the magic that filld my heart with countless moments of joy as a child but that slowly crawled its way out of my heart and into a small place I forgot was there, it was all back.
“You haven’t changed much.” I thought to myself. But I have. In so many ways, I am miles away from the person I used to be. And now you’re back, and I feel as if I am back too. It’s like my past and my present merged into this moment, this perfect moment where it seems like everything that is good about the world, about me, came together here, in this exact spot, at this exact time. It may have been the music, I might have been drunk with the cinnamon and the apple and the aroma of caramelised sugar, but right there and then, I was at peace.
(picture taken by me)
Right in the streets of that small, french town.