To tell you the truth, the honest god forsaken and all the different kinds it comes in, truth - I don't know that much of the written word to describe how much of a blast it was.
But if you were in front of me and saw my hand gestures, the excited tone in my voice, the eyebrows with a mind of their own, the bulging eyes themselves, you'd see my point. Even if I didn't have to pin you to a wall and scream it out, you'd see it.
I lived those two weeks.
I laughed, I danced, I drank, I sat on a horse, I wore heavier clothes than I've ever worn, some jewelry too yes, I hugged a thousand people, I reflected a million flashes of the camera on my skin, I made my jaws ache by smiling so much, I walked in a daze, I saw family and friends I hadn't seen in ages and I cried for it, and I smiled for it
...and she looked so lovely through it all. And I crossed my fingers every time I managed a secret glance at her.
Now we're busy assembling ikea furniture and the camera's are slung on tourist necks clicking past me at the buildings and the concrete.
Shit I miss the attention.