Saturday, July 12, 2008

Petite anglaise

Yes, I guess this is what I would like to be. But am not. Not necessarily living in Paris, even though that would be amazing (have you noticed how often I use this word, amazing? I wonder why ...). I'm talking about an aspiring writer who starts up a blog and becomes famous. And write a book, and she actually becomes a writer. That's what she wrote as a profession in her marriage license.
She talks (well, writes) about her own life, about simple events in her life, about day-to-day little things, but people read them, reply to them, comment, and love it.
I could be the little Romanian in Montreal. Nothing too original about that, I know.
I can't wait to read the book. I guess I can go buy it. Can I afford it? With all the other things that I have to afford? I couldn't care less about money.
This is not even worth of being published. I guess I'm not either. But still, I'll press the button.


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