Darker Turns

I wasn't lost. I was just in the wrong place, trapped in the fluorescent prison of the shopping mall. The bags in my hand felt like weights, the drone of mindless chatter a sandpaper symphony against my soul. The New York I left

La belle époque

In the heart of France, beneath the Parisian skies,Where the Seine whispers tales under the moon's guise,The spirit of Nouvelle Vague once danced unfurled,In a ballet of shadows and light, it gently swirled. Here, where cobblestones