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This week was filled with stacks of books, "unheimliche" ghoststories, discussions on art and life, dimly-lit smokefilled rooms, (bedroom)dancing, goldenrimmed-porcelain-cups filled with wine, the last golden leaves, German puzzles, cats, magic moments and beautiful people.
Next week I'll be 21, which means I will be officially a grown-up. But as long as my days still feel like they come from fairytales and short stories in books with yellow pages, I won't feel too old.