Leaving Barcelona yesterday felt like leaving home to go somewhere new and in a way, it was. As my boyfriend drove into airport to drop me off on his way to practice a sudden wave of emotions just rushed over my body and I couldn't stop myself from crying. We kissed, hugged and I shoved my face into his chest and cried like a child when you drop him off at the kindergarten for the first time and he is begging you not to leave him at this strange new place. He squeezed me tightly and took a deep deep breath.
An hour later, drowning my sorrow in the venti-cup of cafe late and September issue of British Vogue I could not help but wonder why are we putting ourselves through all this. We are both young, capable and successful. Could there be an easier way to all this?
At about page 115 reading about Sicilian baroque trend I got a bit more optimistic and realistic, so I took a break from Vogue and browsed through my last several photos from days spent together and realised how strong and how much we grew as a couple in last couple of weeks. That has to count for something. All at its own time I concluded.
Later in the day, few hours before departure, I carefully packed my valued jewelry and delicate garment pieces and "death-march" walked to the car.













