My Travels

Once, when I was a young child, I traveled to a far away European country. This country was called France, and I was in love with the burning buildings. Everything was on fire everywhere, which made my world a blur in contrast to it. I did not care at the time. I never even knew. I was a sick little puppy, you know. I followed my comfort and clung to it like a blanket. I was only around ten years old, which is an age of nothingness when looking back from today. That day used to be called "Today," but it passed away. I miss that Today, this Today is not nearly what it used to be. Today has changed.
Paris was indescribable. If someone asked me to try to tell them what it was like, I would not be able to relate it. Unless you have been there, you cannot begin to understand. This is straightforward, which is nothing like my last paragraphs. I could write endless paragraphs, but that does not make them true. The reason Paris was indescribable is not only because it was amazing, but also because I can hardly remember. I hate myself for forgetting. All I remember is following my mom around, and there was so much wine. Everywhere you would look, you would find wine. I remember a tower. I remember a church. I remember a massive woman eating a sandwich while I attempted to order food. I remember jumping into a fountain and thinking that it was a pool because it looked like fun. I was too young to appreciate Paris. I went to the Louvre. Can you imagine a ten-year-old child at the Louvre? It is not that pleasant for someone lacking appreciation. I only remember seeing naked women and wondering why we have to be so thin now, when women were so beautifully plump back then. I hate us. I hate everything about us. One more word.