It became mundane. The city’s sounds became lullaby, reassuring background music, its sounds a barely noticed backdrop. Blogging this became tedious, forced – much like writing about breathing patterns, the blinking of eyes, the beats of a heart for a distracted mind with neither the aptitude nor the appetite for close scientific observation.
The boredom of blogging about what had become quotidian and banal induced a hiatus.
Realising now, however, that Paris and I are stuck together, even if I leave tomorrow, we’re eternally bound – I thought that I might as well embrace the rote, and the banality of living here.
I’m recommitting to looking at Paris, albeit without the aid of my rose-tinted glasses. I’ll look through at her through the puffy, bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyes of a doctoral student barely making it through yet another year of a dearly loved but oftentimes annoying thesis.
Poor quality, hastily-taken photos without any respect to photographic technique shall flood these here blog pages.
One instagram post at a time, much blogging and reblogging shall be done here. Yes, in-between the deep sighs of frustration and occasional spurts of joy that make life in this city perfectly imperfect, the hiatus will be broken and this blog will be given some sort of new breath of life. Here goes…
Anon's Paris 