We believe that time runs at a rate of sixty minutes per hour...

...because that's what they've told us all our lives. But what's to say we have to believe them, when we have all this evidence on our side?

I'm a day away from the two week mark, with the end of the month approaching ever faster and faster.

Life is all a blur with time throwing me for a loop and nothing in focus but

School, in its interminable three-hour chunks,

A slowly dwindling "to tourist" list, sadly dependant on the uncooperative weather,

The light at the end of the Chunnel, my imminent return to California May 31.

But there's stuff that goes on. 3 euro movies during the Cannes festival, Museum night, veillées at Sacré Coeur, days spent hanging out with long lost friends, metro rides, museums, landmarks, metro rides, monuments, museums, bus rides, monuments, metro rides, and museums,

and through it all, I'm getting pretty good at the Our Father in French.

I'll acknowledge but not appologize for this post's speculative nature. But what else can you expect at this point in my nine month European adventure?

Plus, it's raining.