The key to my soul, my heart, that's 17 071.65km away (give or take the few hundred kms between where I live and Sydney): La Tour Eiffel, Ă Paris, en France.
I love Italy, I love Australia, I even kind of loved America (the San Francisco/Disney Land aspect of it anyway) but France, and Paris, is, and will always be, my one true love.
But it's the kind of one true love that'll always be far away. I love Paris, I will always love Paris yet I doubt I will ever be strong enough, brave enough, to uproot my life and leave my family and friends to move halfway across the world to a city, and a country, where the people are not my own.
I could find a guy, fall in love, get married but I don't think I could ever leave Australia.
I love Paris, but Australia, all of Australia, is home. While I'd love the fashion and weather of France, I'd miss the bush and the '4-seasons-in-one-day/if-you-dont-like-the-weather-wait-5-minutes' of Victoria.
To put it simply, I'd miss the yellow grass.
When I went to France, the biggest difference I noticed between Australia and France was the grass. While it was ture that in Australia we were just coming out of a hot and dry summer and France was coming out of winter, the grass was really green. After 10+ years of drought in Australia even throughout the winter the grass never reached that leafy bright green I saw in France.
I suppose what I started off saying in this post isn't really true. Maybe I should've said; I love Italy, Paris holds the key to my heart but I still call Australia home.
I think the point is: I miss Paris, even though it's been 3 years since I've been there, or maybe especially because.
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