quickstep.

La fin est proche. I find myself packing, but while packing I think this is too soon, and yet, I am not packing to go home…I am packing to stay elsewhere. OH! the life of the nomad. A few days in London should do me good, then back to Tours to explore the région, seule, et puis mon père, ma soeur, et mon frère will be here to share the delights of the area with me, followed by an adventure in Paris…then Berlin.

School is getting easier and less sévère. I feel at home walking through these rues and subsisting off only the most basics. I have made it to stage four…can I come back to the life that is là-bas? I am not sure. My experience here has been one of self-directed reflection. If I return where will my place be? Is there room for the new me? I don’t want to go back to speaking English, really. I don’t want to get comfortable only to move again.

Senegal is calling at my ear now.  An adresse and a place to sleep, a new life with which to become acquainted. So many new things. They say this is the year of the tiger and all the animals will be too busy to sleep. I am moving moving moving until it is my year next…and then, where will I be and who?