I hate to say good bye. I hate it when friends leave. I hate to be left behind. And I gave up counting all the farewell diners, lunches, parties, drinks and whatsoever I had in recent weeks. Oh, yes, I forgot the farewell breakfast. Obviously, there are some more to come today and tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and… No, stop, the weekend, I’ll go home after saying good bye but without any farewell stuff. After all, I’ll be back in Brussels by the end of August and start a new life with a new job* and a new flat**. Hah, take this Farewell-melancholy-I-do-not-want-it-to-finish-mood.
Quand même, la puce
* & **: Still needs to be found.