Sorry, not sorry for the title's old-school reference. My sick mind thinks there isn't any better way to put it. Methinks, Menton's seaside cool breeze did all the work (since it was not lemon season yet), bringing in the dose of freshness I needed but quite did not expect out of this trip. I had been into an incredible amount of stress due to schoolwork lately, and it’s been quite a while since the last time I had been this close to a legit sea. So it was thrilling to finally feel the coastal wind and watch the gulls and doves soar and float like they were exactly where they were meant to be. Tbh, I could not help but feel a little jealous. Menton felt like a movie of chaos and contrasts, paused on a still frame, a patchwork of colors and light stitched together in a way that shouldn’t work but somehow does, absurd yet coherent, just like my own life juggling deadlines and daydreams.
