I saw no reason to assume Ronald Reagan was NOT an old Flamenco dancer in Seville, Spain.
I DID also see the reverse photo of me taking a photo of my friends taking a photo of me taking a photo in Barcelona.
I DID see a photo of my two friends taking a photo of me taking a photo in Barcelona.
I saw no reason to not love that my temporary landlord has parental controls set for Facebook, but has no issue decorating her walls with some old fashioned Muff-Diving.
I DID see a Kiehl’s in Montmartre, which makes me feel a little better about how much they charge me to not look like the 15 year-old, prepubescent, 29 year-old I am.
I saw no Amelie running up stairs to cutely woo me.
I DID see this guy walking through Montmartre, of all places that could not possibly be trite for him to be walking through.
I saw no Beirut doing a “Takeaway Show” on this very corner.
I saw no triplets.
Barcelona: Paris en espanol? Possibly.
It’s real pretty here. And stuff.
Hola Sevilla.
Basketball, free weights, cardio, aerobics, 2hrs parking, nutrition, AND yoga? Everything I don’t want in one place!
Why did no one inform me there was a second Marcel the Shell? Why?
My sketch of Markus (smoke and a coke)