I’ll have to do my own cooking, cleaning and laundry.
I’ll have to learn how to iron.
I’ll improve my French, maybe even talk English with a severe French accent.
I’ll wile away my weekends travelling through France.
I’ll be less ambitious and spend my weekends drinking copious amounts of coffee while writing about the linguistic habits of some foreign people.
There’ll be a whole world of other bookstores to pillage through.
I’ll feast on pain au chocolat and croissants.
I’ll think back on the feasts of joy of afore.
I’ll spend my free time blogging, facebooking, IMing with all the people I left behind.
I’ll spend my free time making new friends.
I’ll be part of something significant.
I’ll leave behind the significant parts of who I know myself to be.
I’ll be happy.
I’ll be disjointed.
I’ll be living out a dream.
I’ll be able to forget trashed dreams.
I’ll be among people who don’t stare blankly when I say, ‘sociolinguistics’.
I’ll be among people who will stare at me blankly.
I’ll have to convince a lot of people I can be there.
France is a long way away.