WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE YOUNG.

Just because I read french I have to be all supermainstream and dream about one day going to Paris. 
I'm actually such a ego bitch I'm going to the top and lock a lock for my love to myself at the love-fence. And then I'm going to eat a lot of "Crêpes au nutella" and wear skirts. And oxfords. And high stockings. And a tee that says "I ♥ Paris and dogpoop on the street"
Destination two is obviosly Austria for a two week skiing holiday. Halle-freaking-lujah! Endless slopes and sunny weather. Yes please. And I can't break my traditions so I'll have to make this trip with my nephew. The only thing  with Simon is that
. . . he is very - very fast and I am very - very competitive. Last year I ended up lying in the middle of
everything with this excruciating pain in my back. F**k downhill. I love it :)
After two weeks in snow I could probably use some surfing and diving in Bali. Buy clothes with the most awesome patterns. Drink cold exotic juice drinks on the beach. Walking barefoot to a beachrestaurant. Best friends. Just for a month or so. 
Turn twentyone. Find that boy I see myself with on a porch as our hair turn grey. Lie under the Arizona starsky and whisper out favoritewords to the darkness. Just for a week or so, before we go home to break up and be heartbroken for a while . . . and heal.
Santa Monica. Ride the Pariswheel and eat candycotton, still with that silly boy that I'm going to grow old with. Oh. . . Santa Monica.
Back to europe. Poland. Warsaw. Old buildings. Wear oxfords, high socks and that perfect pullover. Eat icecream under some old building. Ofcourse with that very best friend of yours.
New Zealand. Just sit there for a month and watch the nature. Hike. Camp. Do whatever people do in NZ. With those girlfriends of yours who never gets sick of new adventures.
Go home. Grandma, grandpa, uncles, aunts, cousins. Wild animals. The smell of mummy-food everywhere. Chai. Chai. A lot of Chai. Go to aunty on the contry . . . aunty with cows and chickens. Red sand where the blood was spilled. The blood in the flag. The blood that was spilled by the warriors. And watch the green part of the flag; the nature. Feel the white part of the flag; the purity. Be among the black part of the flag; the black people. My sweet Kenya. Even though there is problems. I love saying it; Kenya yetu, hakuna matata ♥ Just because that song is the greates Kiswahili song ever made.



Kommentarer
Postat av: Lena

Åh, Polen mitt hemland, rekommenderar verkligen! ;) <3

2012-01-13 @ 22:57:17
URL: http://biscottes.blogg.se/

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