(no subject)
Ahh, 2006's coming to an inevitable end. How undeniably depressing.
Garrett Hedlund's smile makes me smile. It's so honestly honest, it's one of those that you see a picture of, stare at for a looong time, grin idiotically, and then look away, out of sheer shy embarrassment.
... Seriously.
Anyway, holidays felt as if it passed by in a matter of days, really. In that seemingly short span of time, i finished reading Whuthering Heights. Woohoo! I liked it much more than i thought i would, though i couldn't stand neither Heathcliff nor Catherine. I suppose Heathcliff, on his part, could be excused, but he still pissed me off considerably throughout the book. Bah. I adore Hareton, though.
Disneyland was magical. Paris was awesome. London was... well. London was London, though it felt much less like it than it should've. But Paris was good, excluding the fact that we had to spent most of the day on the tour bus. It was fine the first half hour we got there, with all the 'ooh!'-ing and the 'aah!'-ing directed to the gorgeous buildings with gorgeous cast iron balconies all around. But then i [along with the other riders, presumably] just started to get restless, and would've much preferred exploring the city by foot.
The best, most incredible thing about Paris are these green boxes-cum-stalls along the river Seine. It was winter, so only a handful of those stalls were open; each were second-hand bookstalls, some carrying pretty good souvenirs as well, but the books themselves were the eye-catchers. Old, weathered french books, wrapped in plastic, propped on those stalls. Unfortunately, being a first-rank typical tourist, i can't read french, and my french vocabulary is limited to 'bonjour', 'bonsoir' and 'merci', but damn well am i gonna start learning after discovering those green wonders! Regretfully, we were in a hurry, so further inspection on these said bookstalls were cut short. I did, however, pick up a recent copy of Le Petit Prince, because i knew there would be no time whatsoever to explore bookstores. I'm definitely going back there, after learning the sufficient amount of french, o' course.
However this article bothers me. Deeply. A tiny niggle at the back of my head tells me that by the time i do get back there, whenever that may be -possibly a long time from now-, everything would be drastically changed. No more pretty old books, just a long line of green souvenir shops.
... horrible thought.
Garrett Hedlund's smile makes me smile. It's so honestly honest, it's one of those that you see a picture of, stare at for a looong time, grin idiotically, and then look away, out of sheer shy embarrassment.
... Seriously.
Anyway, holidays felt as if it passed by in a matter of days, really. In that seemingly short span of time, i finished reading Whuthering Heights. Woohoo! I liked it much more than i thought i would, though i couldn't stand neither Heathcliff nor Catherine. I suppose Heathcliff, on his part, could be excused, but he still pissed me off considerably throughout the book. Bah. I adore Hareton, though.
Disneyland was magical. Paris was awesome. London was... well. London was London, though it felt much less like it than it should've. But Paris was good, excluding the fact that we had to spent most of the day on the tour bus. It was fine the first half hour we got there, with all the 'ooh!'-ing and the 'aah!'-ing directed to the gorgeous buildings with gorgeous cast iron balconies all around. But then i [along with the other riders, presumably] just started to get restless, and would've much preferred exploring the city by foot.
The best, most incredible thing about Paris are these green boxes-cum-stalls along the river Seine. It was winter, so only a handful of those stalls were open; each were second-hand bookstalls, some carrying pretty good souvenirs as well, but the books themselves were the eye-catchers. Old, weathered french books, wrapped in plastic, propped on those stalls. Unfortunately, being a first-rank typical tourist, i can't read french, and my french vocabulary is limited to 'bonjour', 'bonsoir' and 'merci', but damn well am i gonna start learning after discovering those green wonders! Regretfully, we were in a hurry, so further inspection on these said bookstalls were cut short. I did, however, pick up a recent copy of Le Petit Prince, because i knew there would be no time whatsoever to explore bookstores. I'm definitely going back there, after learning the sufficient amount of french, o' course.
However this article bothers me. Deeply. A tiny niggle at the back of my head tells me that by the time i do get back there, whenever that may be -possibly a long time from now-, everything would be drastically changed. No more pretty old books, just a long line of green souvenir shops.
... horrible thought.