Three cars with ribbons indicating unity and togetherness. A small part of a larger procession that will soon be forgotten.
The French countryside is a muck with twisting and turning roads that require constant gear shifting. 4th to 3rd to 2nd and back again.
I swear we passed at least a million trees. Maybe more.
Eyes tired. Restless. Sleepless. 4am return. 11am check out. Two croissants consumed.
Irony: declaring that you don't want nor ever will get married and then catching a bride's bouquet a few hour later. (And then insisting that you only caught it because you calculated the trajectory, all very mathematic and scientific, a simple accident of athleticism, a fluke.)
Ribbons don't flow in the wind, they cut and rage,it's a concentrated madness.
Concentrated madness: a small, often uncontainable or uncontrollable, burst of "crazy" or "insane" (1) behavior, (2) movement, or (3) speech pattern. Ex: "marriage is a good idea" is an example of concentrated madness (3).
Applause. The show begins.
We lost our procession for two minutes due to the toll.
The Alps are in our sights. We're going around them to get back home.
The French-Italian Alps.
The mountains are truly wonderful, their beauty incomparable.
Ripped the heads off shrimp. Broke a glass. Consumed a large pile of fries.
My head is spinning. My stomach is similar.
A natural fountain with ice cold water from the Alps. Crisp. Refreshing. Possibly contained electrolytes. Research later.
The mountains seem endless. The road is infinite and there are no destinations. The trees are ancient and intimidating. One wrong turn and the road could end for you.
Through one tunnel, out of France and back in Italy. It's that simple. A twenty second drive through a tunnel built into the mountains. Crazy.
The autostrada is the fastest way to get back.
(1) Is love necessary?
(2) So I need to do Laundry?
(3) I swear pairs of my underwear were stolen at that hotel in France, but I might just be forgetful about my packing and paranoid.