Chagall, Swiss Teens, and Topless Tanning
Upon returning to Cannes from a charming, slightly haunted wedding in Saint George sur Cher, I found myself incredibly ill, depressed, and alone. I fell in the dark hole that one wonders if she will ever come out of. I woke up crying, went to bed crying, cried on the train, in the market, at school, basically anywhere. Looking back I can't believe how liberated I was to allow myself to express such raw emotion for the world to see, and didn't have the chance to think twice about it because the tears streamed without prevail. I wished I had died in the accident, kept thinking I made a huge mistake coming over here (yeah it was that bad). I had no friends, nothing, no one, nada. There isn't much to do in Cannes aside from going to the beach, going to the beach, and going to the beach. What Florida is to the United States, Cannes is to France. Lots of old people and lots of teens and springbreaker types just on a more international level. No one liked me at all. Some of the s