A Taste of French Life, Green Gorillas in Autumn, and my Return Home.

Beautifully written piece of autumn

evalunes

Sometimes coming home is not as good as you hoped it would be. Coming back to the island however, it surely was. When I arrived last Wednesday by ferry early in the morning in Palma and my feet stepped on Mediterranean soil again, I felt butterflies in my stomach. Somehow I feel I belong to this soil. 

As I passed the marina the sun was rising, a few men and women were running along the marina in the fresh morning air, early cyclists passed me by on their fast bikes. “No gracias,” I said to the taxi driver. I didn’t need one, I just wanted to walk and roam a bit. I have time, nobody was waiting for me anyway — except for the cats.

City life

After a month in the quiet French countryside where I stayed moreless at one location all the time, I enjoyed the dynamics of…

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