“If you have not bought a ticket to the Riviera by the next session I will not consult you anymore,” my psychotherapist warned me, half-jokingly. — Izlasi 34 min.
Ne reizi vien esmu redzējusi, kā Franču Rivjēras maigais vējš un saldās smaržas cilvēkā atrauj vaļā dziņas un kaislības, par kuru eksistenci viņš līdz tam nav pat nojautis. — Izlasi 17 min.
It was a tender April 20s night, not unlike one of those I imagine Francis Scott Fitzgerald wrote about: a gentle wind blew from the sea, a full moon shone above Nice, the bustling of restaurant visitors on Place Garibaldi got quieter already after 11pm. It was an off-season Wednesday, after all. It was around this time that I decided to take a walk from Nice to Monaco. Well, I had no choice. I had forgotten my card and phone charger in my friend's car, and she had left for Monaco much earlier. I had spent more than an hour waiting for the night bus and in vain. As I discovered with help of a passer-by, there was no night bus from the Nice airport to Monaco on Wednesday nights. Meanwhile, I had missed the last train leaving around 11pm. — Izlasi 7 min.