Jut look at the title. See the title. Think of it.

It’s French. And more than half-coherent, which is surprising. I’m feeling montmartre again. And yes, that’s an adjective. Coming up with that title is a great achievement, from my point of view.

Unfortunately, I can’t come up with anything to do my glorious title justice. Anything but the song. Which I didn’t come up with. Yann Tiersen did. I just came up with putting it here. Which I did.

Tea is in store for tomorrow. And autumn leaves and all that jazz. Come to think of it, I should listen to some jazz. I haven’t in ages. Or some neofolk crap. Or atmospheric Negura/Burzum/whatever stuff. Or some CoB. Hell, everything goes.

Февраль. Достать чернил и плакать!
Писать о феврале навзрыд,
Пока грохочащая слякоть
Весною черною горит.

No, the poem doesn’t have to do with anything. I should do some more Russian lessons. Or not. i should stop trying to learn too many languages at the same time. My Finnish is far from perfect and I just don’t have the time to start Portuguese, Nynorsk, Croatian and Russian.

And here comes the age-old [well, not really, but it seems age-old] question: if you love languages so much, why did you go to a high school that focuses on maths and sciences?
I just love them both. Well, languages and physics. Mathematics is a whore and thus deserves no love from me. Even though sometimes it gets it.

I love physics.

Oh, and less than one week until Deep Purple and a teense bit more than one week till the already infamous mountain trip. Yes, I’m hyper and happy. And I should write a poem.

Have I told you that I’m going to see my beloved Finland next summer? If not, I’m doing it now. Actually, I just did.

And here’s your song: