Europe was good. Frankfurt was nice. I fell in love with Grenoble. Paris floored me. And Brussels was just fantastic.

Paris was good. Did a lot of Parisian things there. Mostly cliched. But didn't care. I walked by the Seine, ate cake, browsed bookshops, sat in a roadside cafe, read a book and smiled to people walking by, played with strange dogs, took lots of pictures, lost myself in a song, felt loved, cried, felt hated, spoke in French and giggled, walked through obscure and unknown Paris streets, looked at ordinary buildings with awe, walked through the rain in beautiful narrow lanes, ambled pointlessly in a violent hailstorm with couples all around clinging to each other running for shelter, stopped at the corner and listened to a lovely song that the street musician was playing...

Europe really was good. Did a lot of strange things, especially after dark. Drank ridiculous amounts of strange and brilliant alcohol every evening, and beer all day, like there was no tomorrow, got hopelessly drunk and cut loose, tried to make up for lost time, sang horrible karaoke in front of strangers who were sweetly amused, tried my hand at dancing to reggae music with a hot teenager, almost got talked into a getting a body piercing done, woke up at 12 and went out at 1 everyday, watched French movies late into the night, with an adorable girl by my side who painfully explained each scene to me...

And now the suns gone down...but the shadows will linger.