"Sketch - Near Stromboli, Italia"; watercolour on paper.
So here's my story, Part 9:
After Italy, Monaco, and Spain, I made a pit stop to visit my other home country of France. I'd mentioned before that my home towns are Honoulu and Atlanta; another home town of mine is Bordeaux, in the Southwest of France, right at the mouth of the Garonne River, where I spent many days wandering around the cobblestone streets and savouring long mornings and afternoons in various cafés along the Rue St. Catherine.
This time around, though, I stayed in Paris, where I had once lived – briefly – as a teenager. Just like I had recharged my spiritual batteries in Honolulu, while in Paris I was able to recalibrate my culinary tastes.
For a short time after the brain injury, random foods and drinks would taste like soap to me. I later learnt this was a symptom of something being "broken" in my brain's wiring. The only thing that could fix that was time and patience.
Check out my other posts to learn more about my story.
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