I used to hate Sundays.
Probably because I always knew there's Monday behind, hiding in the shadow, waiting to make a huge jump across time limits and trying to surprise us.
Last Sunday I saw blue skies in the middle of autumn. I felt yellow leaves beneath my feet. I ate the most delicious chestnut cake in my whole life. I walked in my uncomfortable heels over the rocks and mountains. And had so much fun.
This Sunday, I drank mulled wine on the main square. I took funny photos in the tram. I giggled and laughed and I was loved more than anyone has ever been loved before. And had so much fun.
Now I decided I should maybe love Sundays. And I can't wait for the next one.
WHAT I WORE
From head to shoes: thrifted
Shoes: new yorker