Sometimes I think I’ll just go to London.

I don’t know why London, because it’s cold and rainy there, but I like tea and wearing sweaters and jeans and it’s London, so there.

And I think I’ll just hop a plane, get a pint at a pub and straight away make some friends, and find a flat and a job and just write. And when I feel like moving, I’ll up and go. Madrid, Vienna, Paris. Money won’t be an issue, because I’ve been writing and I have money, and because my new friends will want to come with me and we’ll share flats and never have trouble finding a job on the side, just a little one, a few hours a day, to supplement, because I’m far too fond of expensive things.

And then eventually my screenplays will win festivals and awards and Oscars and I’ll feel a little famous and a little drunk on margaritas and happiness, and I’ll wear long, pretty dresses and smile and joke with the press and people will know that I’m interesting and pretty and they’ll want to know me.

  1. soylahenia posted this