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London Nights

The streets are dark, illuminated only by the glow of street lanterns. The style you exclusively witness in Europe. It is cold and damp precisely what you would imagine of a mid January night in London. The gigantic red double-decker busses and nostalgic back taxies buzzing through the street. We are on foot looking for a pub, about fifty of us, the first night of my first bus tour. We are not waking as a normal group would; we are weaving in and out making small talk with each other. Oh the things I would do different, if I had only known this group of people would become my forever friends, family bound together by wanderlust. As we stroll along the wistful walkways, I hear a voice from behind me say “It’s a bit nippy ah”. In the most handsome voice and accent I have ever heard. I turn around to see an attractive 6” blond, blue eyed Australian in his mid 30’s. Wearing merely a jumper and jeans, the airline lost his luggage. The story goes as you would imagine, we have a steamy romance through the streets of London, Paris, Rome, Miami and Vegas. But my story doesn’t end there. If it had, it would have been perfectly fine, but it didn’t. Our love affair ended after the holiday, but another love affair was born. A love affair with the world and everything in it, my story was just getting started. My story does not start or stop with a boy; it starts and stops with me. I don’t know when my story will become “our story” and I am okay with that.

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