With a thousand words to say but one.

Taking a look at my life from here, I can't tell whats next except whats expected. All the trails that once stood beneath my feet are turned over and all that is left is an empty dream I've been clinging on to since I was much younger. I guess everyone wants a little bit of fame but I feel like I need it.

I find myself narrating my own story as I capture scene after scene behind my own eyes, waiting for something to happen. And seeing the same old places and people has left me tired of this story. So do I close the book, tear our a few pages, or hold it out. I've never been much of a reader anyway.

C.K.

Parle vu Francais?

So it's settled. I'm moving to France. I'll find work as a cinematographer or maybe just work in a cafe. I don't care if I'm hated for being an American. I'll just watch movies like Amelie and learn. Have you heard that they're trying to make us seem like a romantic city like Paris? New York, I love you is NOT Paris, Je T'aime. New York is bitter, cold and confusing. In every sense. How they're making several love stories that revolve around the boroughs is beyond me. Especially this island. And especially on a snowy night like tonight, where everything is still, and you can almost feel everyone huddled in their beds watching French films wishing they were somewhere else.

Or maybe that's just me.

Sorrentina Palombra