A cheesy but very sincere definition that I wrote in my sketchbook after I finally became acquainted with the culture:
In Paris, I am someone. Although I don't announce myself, although I don't advertise; my presence is still acknowledged. Be it a comment [towards] my appearance or a compliment [towards] my craft; I am, [in] every single day, noticed in some way or another. I am appreciated. What I do is not considered a gamble, but rather a well-respected profession. Why have I not known this long before? And now that I'm finally here, why oh why would I ever want to leave?
Written on my last night in France:
Dear Paris,
People have always told me that visiting you would be a life-changing experience. I wonder now though, if these people meant this as a positive or a negative reaction. I've learned and saw so much of your history. I've struggled, and yet also fell in love, with your culture. How could I possibly go back to my responsibilities when your bread and cheese tempt me so much? And how could I possibly continue to do my art when you've shown me what I have to compete with? I feel so insignificant now. I feel so useless.
Paris, one of these days, I will come back to visit you again. And when I do, I hope that you can take me under your wing and transform me enough to be worthy of the title 'Artist.'
I will come back. I promise.
Sincerely,
Jeannie Lou F. Estonactoc
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