insomnia (to squeak! perchance to scream.)
I want eurotrash.
Not like gold-tipped black clove cigarettes. Like thick, lush paper that comes in so-called non-standard sizes and has little boxes instead of lines. Asymmetrical shoes. 74 varieties of yogurt. Open air markets that reek of drying anchovies. Mayonnaise on my motherfucking french fries. Deodorant that smells like kiwis. Télécartes. French people who make fun of my English and English people who tell me I dress like a French tourist. 8-year-old draguers and Amsterdam waffles. Pink body glitter from the city where Joan of Arc was burnt at the stake. Real trains.
(Eurotrash is a term of endearment.)
Posted on November 16th, 2009 under Grenada • Tags: europe, nostalgia, random, tumblr. • 
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