G'morning!

Here I am, returning home at almost 5 AM again. Not sleepy at all of course. And it is almost the same every day for almost two months now — going out practically every night, discovering different bars, clubs and arrondissements by night. I don't know when do we actually sleep. I have no idea when do (will) we study anything. When my friends and family ask me what do I do here, I don't even know what to say. I can't distinguish one day from another even though none of them resembles another one, but my brain is always stimulated by so many events I cannot keep a track of the past. It's only the present I can keep up with. Sometimes not even that.

There is always a billion of us strolling around and trying to enter pubs or bars, then when we finally find one that has enough space for all of us (even just standing places if necessary) or that is opened at that late night hour, we get kicked out because only three people out of twenty-five wants to order something. And then we wander through the dark streets lightly lit up by street lamps and lights coming out of Parisian chic apartments. We always end up on the road then (But no matter, the road is life, writes Jack Kerouac). We finish the night by taking the night bus that is crowded with other night birds like us and spend an hour or two or three to get back home. 

Crazy things happen on the way. 

And so, suddenly it's morning.