Let me start from the beginning.
Pre-show-loiterings. Playing mind games with some curious characters reselling tickets for twice the original price. Don’t worry all is well, I won, suffering only minor losses to my self-respect. As for this man…who knows who he is, nor why his belly is so large.
WHERE AM I?!?!?!
Abstraction… I’m sorry, ok?!
Yes, let us be friends.
Hail.
People that I’ve met. In Paris, from elsewhere. Comme moi
In Paris before going on to Barcelona
Student from NYU studying in Paris
Waiting in line outside of Breakfast in America, restaurant of champions
If you don’t have a scarf-on-bag fetish, you should.
Strollin and sippin Starbucks
We first approached these guys because my friend Kate (girl above, who’s horrified face might be mistaken for giggles) is from Chicago, and as you can see…man above (and man to the right who’s cut out) is wearing a Chicago Bulls hat. So after making our way over and while asking if we could take their picture, all of a sudden like a monster, we were seized by the commotion behind us. (see image below) “AHH!” we screamed (that is not true), for this guy had fallen, and smartly so taken off his pants to drunkenly stare at his knee before pulling a fast one and mooning us. His butt crack…very hairy. But nevertheless an exciting experience and/or not. Though I pity Kate for enduring the man who insisted on many kiss.
The Grown Up Kids 