Dear Isabel,
I can't wait 'til I can finally come visit you in Amsterdam and live in a dingy apartment with you in Paris (or Berlin, since France is quite expensive). We would work in a cafe like in Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amelie Poulain as well as skip stones in Canal St. Martin. We would have a Russian tea ceremony and go to bookshops every weekends. We would go to 50's diners or jazz clubs or dance halls and swing dance every night. We'd watch french new wave and classic films every midnight and wake up to steaming cafe au lait and croissants every morning.
Our house will be amazing! It'll be a small but warm cottage in the woods with two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen and a cozy living room. There will be a garden in the backyard where our company of bunnies dwell. There will be interesting passageways leading to a small library of English, French and Dutch books and a collection of old records. We'll have a balcony as well where we can eat our breakfast or just talk about everything and nothing for hours. We can put up pictures and doodles of Bob Dylan, James Dean, Anna Karina and all our famous friends on our wall. We can stick glow-in-the-dark stars and spaceship on the ceiling and pretend to wish upon them. We can get a polaroid camera from a local thrift store and take pictures of our travels and stick them on our headboard. We can cycle to work or to the lake every morning. So many things to do, so little time. Can't wait...
