A little buzz around the blog community stirred up my curiosity with Lucy Knisley's French Milk. I picked it up last weekend, before heading up to Connecticut. I hadn't realized it was a travel narrative. I suppose I should have expected it, as it promised to give you the itch to visit Paris (immediately). I opened the first page. A cartoon. Oh, it's all...drawings... and photos? I can't read this on the train. People will think I lack intelligence. Hold the phone, do I care? Do they really care?
And it's charming.
Wonderful.
I am jonesing for red wine, cheese and cornichons. I would also like a vat of chocolate mousse. I could be shopping for satchel's made of camel skin. Snapping photos and purchasing scarves for my lovelies back home. I suppose I can do all of these things in New York in the mean time.
Wonderful.
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