I may have been born and bred in England but
that doesn’t stop me thinking that, deep down, I was always destined to be a
Frenchie. Something about my yearning desire for Parisian rooftops,
my insatiable love of croissants and the way I look at a macaron as if there is
nothing else in the world makes me pretty damn adamant that I was swapped at
birth.
Pictures from St Maxime in the French Riviera, or as I like to call it; My Idea Of
Heaven And Joy And Happiness And Love All Rolled Into One Beautiful Little French Town Of Wonders. Vive la France.
If you’re looking at the above photo and wondering whether it’s humanly possible for a 23 year old girl to polish off such a monstrously massive
pancake in less than 2 minutes flat, then let me put you right outta that misery,
pal. It’s possible. It’s possible as hell.
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