What is reality and what is a dream is not yet completely clear to me now that I have come back to Paris (back home). Everything that happened in this city seems as a distant past, a dream barely, perhaps a wild fantasy that took place in my mind sometime somewhere. I can remember all friendships I made in Paris but they seem absurdly unreal, like it all has never happened. My head is now full of faces of my family and close friends, of our dearest dog, of a huge bed with a couple of matresses one on top of another, of home healthy food, of debates and talks that outdid all my conversations here in Paris where I had neglected almost all the intellectual, the artistic, the cultural. Incrdibly, after a few hours spent here my mind is now beginning to clear itself, to erase and delete all the memories from home and slowly this too seems but a dream. I know not where and who I am today, perhaps tomorrow will bring me a new identity, perhaps when I meet everyone from the dreamy past I will be the same, perhaps not, I cannot tell as tonight my reality is as vague as possible.
