...on l'a chante dans les rues...

On ne demande à l'amour
Ni serment de toujours ni des corps fantastique
Pour nous aimer il nous faut simplement
Quelque mots qui vont sur la musique

Besame, besame mucho
Si dans un autre pays ça veut dire embrasse-moi
Besame, besame mucho
Toute ma vie je voudrais la chanter avec toi

What do you want? What excites you, get's you moving, who? Who are you thinking of, right at this second (you're here aren't you)?

Spending the day in Oakville with my family, bringing Lizzy to hang out with them and chill in the O-dot. At one point sitting to catch a breather with Dorinda, getting my fix of big-sister talk (because let's face it, she's more my sister than she is the wife of my cousin). She's telling me I'm better than to make someone else's right decisions, or wait for them to do so. I just have to make my own right decisions, for me. You know what this means?

Make a choice. Make my choice. Make me the choice.

I'm bone-tired. I never really understood that phrase until today, but this is how I feel, right now. Bone tired. Tired into my bones. I want someone to come take care of me, bring me tea. I want to not have an essay waiting for me tomorrow. I want to disappear for awhile, become anonymous. Sans concerne, sans personne a plaire. Why doesn't Toronto have a Washington Park? It should.

The thing is, I think that Alessia just may be the most beautiful child on the face of the earth. An hour of my day, at least, was spent in playing peekaboo. My new sheer green scarf is torn in one place (tight fists, this one). And I am thrilled to bits and pieces.