Me, Anna, the vintage kid

Hello, I am Anna Louise. You might know me as ‘the vintage kid’ or ‘neverwordless’ from around the internet. I love old fashioned clothes and all early technology such as typewriters and record players. Yes, Anna, that’s me. A girl at the edge of becoming a woman, clueless about who she really is, but working to figure it out every day.

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I believe in The Power of Kindness and will support it until the day I die. While I consider myself a feminist, like some other girls in my generation, I fight not in the front rows but in the back of the fields in silent. By reading old books about strong women and expressing myself throughout poetry. To spread my word, I am working on my debut novel, ‘Of Coffee and Longing’, a collection of poetry, that reaches out to the world.


If I could I would spend all my days sitting at cozy, little Cafés, writing and reading, while listening to the chats of Baristas and sipping a Cappuccino. Or either dozing off in my bed by the window, lulled in heaps of white sheets, to the sounds of an old vinyl. On Sundays, you may find me at one of the many vintage flea markets in Berlin, digging through heaps of lovely, old stuff, looking for a treasure for my collection of beautiful and old things. Reality looks a bit different sadly though, but life’s just like that. Busy.

One thing is left to say, wherever you are, whoever you might be, whatever you’re going through, please be kind. Carry out kindness and it will find it’s way back to you. No-one should feel uncomfortable about the way he is and to make that possible we have to accept everyone as they are. So start now and tell your loved ones that they are just the way they should be- themselves.


You want to reach out to me?

Equal if for collaborations or just to talk, you are free to reach out to me anytime. I will always be there to connect with you. Please don’t be upset if it takes me a few days to get back to you, but we all know life can be really busy, so I hope you can understand that.

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Anna Louise


Instagram- neverwordless

Pinterest- the vintage kid

saying my goodbyes to high school

Here I am. It’s almost 10am on a Thursday. I am sitting at my desk at home with a cup of coffee writing this and it feels wrong on many levels. But what bothers me most is that I feel like I should be in class. I should be at school; taking notes, listening to a tutor, studying, busying myself with assignments until midnight, bringing my coffee to class, chatting about weekend plans cancelled due to the workload, but I’m not. I’m home with a cup of coffee writing this, trying to figure out how to make this feel less wrong and saying my goodbyes to high school.

For thirteen (or twelve) years school is one of the steadiest variables in a persons life. In those thirteen (or twelve) years there is a nearly endless number of changes. But when you looked close there was always one thing to rely on, that (almost) no matter what, the next day one would have to get up early, dress, have breakfast and go to school and then come back home. For those thirteen (or twelve) years life situates around this steady variable. Most people like maths for it’s directness. Most of the times there is right or wrong. With a variable it’s different. X might be 6, but there are different ways to get there. X could be 3 + 3 or it could be 4 + 2 or an endless number of other variations. The outcome is the same, but the ways there can differ a great deal. X in life is the steady variable. For the past thirteen (or twelve) years X was school. The experiences with school differ for each person, but X, in the end, always adds up to school. But school ends and with that X is situated in a different equation. Each persons equation differs and now X doesn’t add up to the same thing for anyone anymore. There is an endless number of possibilities for the meaning behind X now. School ends and while the endless possibilities spread in front of ones eyes, life doesn’t feel so steady anymore. Well, at least this is how I feel about it.

Most people are looking very forward to saying their goodbyes to school. I’m not one of them although I feel like I should. Within those thirteen years I have changed, and changed again and then again and changed a final time. School is a personality shaping tool, no one can deny that. It made me grow, but it made me feel a lot of pain all the same. During my school time I shed so many tears I could fill hundreds of water buckets. When growing up finishing school is one of the events that feels a million years away. It sounds like a particular joke, but against all odds, here I am and I can tell you, it happens, almost inevitably. One starts year thirteen blinking, looking away for a second and suddenly ones sitting at ones desk at home with a cup of coffee writing this and one feels empty and a little useless, but a little grateful too. Here I am; taking a first sip of the coffee long gone cold. Here I am; saying my goodbyes to high school, heavy-heartedly. But that’s what goodbyes are like. They hurt a bit and they leave behind a bitter-sweet taste just like coffee does. They are a part of moving on and since life is irresistible, we say our goodbyes to prevent from getting left behind and X adapts a new, but non the less beautiful, shape.

Anna Louise, May 24, 2018

eighteen years

On December 9th, 2017 I turned eighteen years old. A date about which I had some strange feelings. All around me a lot of people were really hyped about their eighteenth birthday. Friends who never went out to party suddenly became the kings and queens of clubs and even the ones who never had the slightest bit of alcohol planned on getting drunk, having the time of their lives, a night to remember, etc etc etc. I was freaked out to the point I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday. While my friends were planning their ‚special‘ night of joining adulthood almost half a year in advance, I kept putting everyone off by saying I didn’t know yet or it was supposed to be a secret. Actually, I didn’t plan on doing anything aside from being in my room at home shedding a few tears. But it wasn’t only that. I was afraid of turning eighteen, because from eighteen on, one is officially an adult, where I live, and I did not [and still don’t] feel as if I am prepared to be accepted as that, and yes, I am indeed trying to come to a point, so this is for all those out there who felt and feel the same way.

what follows is a mixture of random shots of the days around my eighteenth birthday and some of my favorite quotes of the book ‘eighteen years’ by Madisen Kuhn, which accompanied me on the journey of realizing and accepting that nothing is going to change and that that’s okay. Basically it’s a mix of a lifestyle blog & a book review. Hoping it’ll turn out as enjoyable content.



i feel trapped inside of my feverish skin

and i wish i could escape it,

because i don’t want to be myself today


i don’t know why i’m so different,

why i feel so lonely and tired of living

yesterday, i was so happy and hopeful,

inspired and alive

i lit candles and sang along to the radio

and grinned and felt completely intact

but today, i’m in pieces

i feel hollow and meaningless

i don’t get why my feelings change so quickly

it’s like once i’ve wrapped my arms

around them, the wind picks them up

and carries them away, leaving me

with a heart full of unfamiliar emotions

i don’t understand

i just wish

i could figure myself out


Madisen Kuhn, birthday eve



one of the poems that spoke to me, really putting those emotions into words. Since my family knew how I was feeling, on the night before my birthday my mom took me out to the movies. Full program. Smuggling fast food inside the theater, big box of fresh popcorn. The rest of the night I spent decorating and cleaning. I rang in my birthday alone at midnight by taking a bath before I went to bed.




After sleeping in just a little and spending some time with my family I then headed out to the city, just like I had planned. I just knew I had to go for a walk through the streets of Berlin on my birthday, because that’s what I have been immensely enjoying the past year. On the way to the city I started reading ‘eighteen years’. Some of the pieces that really spoke to me will follow [I had tears in my eyes while reading all of them]…


who are you,


you are not a name

or a height or a weight

or a gender,

you are not an age

and you are not

where you are from

you are your favorite books

and the songs stuck in your head,

you are your thoughts

and what you eat for breakfast

on saturday mornings

you are a thousand things,

but everyone chooses

to see the million things

you are not

you are not

where you are from

you are

where you’re going

and i’d like

to go there


Madisen Kuhn, who are you, really?


she buried her face in books

so no one could see

the emptiness of her eyes


she filled her mind

with fictional fantasies

and hoped that one day

they would become real


but because her head

was always stuck in a book

she never got the chance

to have adventures of her own

Madisen Kuhn, cover to cover


i think the world

would be a nicer place

if we stopped pretending

we knew everything

about everyone

Madisen Kuhn, truth


every individual

is son intricate,

yet we rush to peg them,

to label them,

to tell them who they are


the more i meet people

and flip them inside out

to run my fingers along

the cracks of their beating heart,

the more i realize that

no one really is


Madisen Kuhn, depth


In the hours following that train ride I met two of my best friends, went to a photo booth to turn memories into paperweight,

got Starbucks to pay for my venti iced coffee, because that’s how nice they are when it’s your birthday and you have a Starbucks card [everyone was really cute, i’m being honest, they wrote ‘happy birthday anna’ on my cup with flowers and hearts and all of that, i guess], laughed a lot, met my cousin, had serious, but very good conversations while wandering the city and crashed at Coffee Fellows to flee the cold. The remaining hours of my birthday I spent at home with my family again. Pizza and Grand Hotel [one of my favorite series] were included.

The following morning, a Sunday, my family and I went out for a post-birthday brunch at Coffee Fellows, which meant bagels, warm beverages and time well spent. Took a short walk around the near-by christmas market with my cousin and sister afterwards. Then I went home. Trouble was over and I had spent almost three full days trying to keep everything as it was with an almost feverish effort, spending energy I could have easily saved, because after all, everything that has changed since is the second digit of a simple number in my info box on social media. nothing has changed and that’s fine. I hate changes anyways.

Before I end this somewhat very personal, yet probably boring piece of writing, I have a few more words on ‘eighteen years’  by Madisen Kuhn and one more poem. Something to remember, a message, to those of you reading this, a sort of reminder…

Madisen, your book got through to me in so many ways. At a time that I felt troubled it had the words I needed to hear to be able to calm down. ‘eighteen years’ is the most honest, most real and most beautiful collection of poetry I have yet read. In the past year poetry has become the tongue of my soul, the safe heaven I can always come to. Before your book I would have never dared to believe that there is poetry out there that puts my deepest thoughts into proper words. You did. I found myself with tears in my eyes, heart hurting. You literally speak the same tongue my heart speaks. In a world of so many I feel I have found the one person who is able to translate my soul into words, the one person to be the interpreter to fill the gap between me and the rest of the world. I thank you from the deepest depths of my heart.

To everyone reading this, ‘eighteen years’ is “[The] book [which] is meant to be bent and worn, written in, tear-stained, and loved. This book is for you.” to put it in Madison’s own words. ‘eighteen years’ is the book of first and following loves, of life and coming of age, but to be downright honest, there is no way to do this book any justice listing a few of it’s topics like this. If you want to know what it’s like then there’s no way around just reading it, experiencing it with every cell of your body. To do so, clicking here marks step one [no worries, it’s the link to get your own copy]. Now all that is left to say, is this…


Don’t forget to get away every once in awhile,

To lose yourself in a book

Or in the woods behind your home

Ride your bike into the sunset,

Sit on your front steps and count the cars passing by,

Lay on your roof and gaze up at the night sky,

Drive along backroads with the windows rolled down

Listening to nothing but the sound of rushing wind

I hope you take the time to be alone,

To sort through the cluttered shelves of your heart

I hope you take the time to be silent,

To close your eyes and just listen

I hope you take the time to be still,

To quiet your mind and experience the beauty

Of simply Being

Madisen Kuhn, breathe

Zucchini crust pizza

Bringing to you another much requested recipe I shared on my social media. Enjoy [I sure did]!



300g          zucchini

an              egg

150g          grated mozzarella

50g            grated Parmesan

5 tbsp        tomato sauce

pinch         of salt, pepper



 First, grate and press out the zucchini. Then add some salt and let it rest for 10 minutes.

After that add the egg, 50g of mozzarella and 50g of Parmesan. ‘Roll’ out the ‘dough’ that results from the combination or to put it more realistic, you will rather end up spreading the mixture into a thin round shape directly on a baking tray.

Then bake it for 20 minutes at 220 degrees celsius.

After 20 minutes turn over the dough and then add the toppings of your choice.

Lastly, bake for another 15 minutes.

aaand you’re done! All easy and fast. Enjoy your pizza, no matter if all by yourself or together with family and friends!

yours, anna xx

the cinnamon bun

Welcome back to this small row of blogs I started back in April this year. After many comments and questions on my cinnamon buns, I am bringing back ‘anna’s simplicity bakery’ to reveal my bun receipt as a sort of beginning-of-autumn-celebration-gift from me to you. Enjoy the fall-ish sweetness.

Ingredients (modifiable):

for the dough…

500g                          of all purpose flour

1 package                of dry yeast

80g                            of sugar

80g                            of butter

one                            pinch of salt

250ml                       of milk


…and for the filling

60g                            of sugar

50g                            of butter

1 package                 of vanilla sugar

1 tbsp                        of cinnamon



First, add together all the dry ingredients for the dough, meaning the flour, yeast, sugar and salt.

Then heat the butter and milk together in a small pot until the butter is fully melted and add it to the dry ingredients while it’s still warm. Knead the mixture until it gets a thick, smooth, non-sticky texture. Leave it in the bowl for another 30 min for the yeast to unfold.

While the dough is resting, preheat the oven to 356F and prepare the filling.

Melt the butter and combine it with both of the sugars and the cinnamon.

When thirty minutes have passed, roll out the dough and spread the filling on it. Roll the dough and cut it into thumb-thick slices. Put these slices on a baking tray and into the preheated oven. Bake them for 20-25 minutes.

Besprinkle them with some frosting or powdered sugar as soon they’re cooled if you want to.

There you go! The comfiness of fall turned into a single pastry. Note that these stay ‘good’ for several days (no eggs) and taste as if they came right out of the oven if you microwave them for a few seconds. And as usually- I dare you to try this out and share your creations with me via social media. Ideas for receipt improvements are welcome! I’m pumped for your opinions!

yours, anna xx

The Immortals by S. E. Lister

Imagine the joy of finding a bookish gem. Literary content that there has not been any hype about. In a ‘bargains’ box at that local bookstore you go to. Edges already a little bent and spine beginning to break. Imagine carrying it home in your coat pocket, smile on your face, because no matter how good or bad it might be, you saved that book. You  showed it kindness and for that there is only one thing it can give back to you- another new, great adventure. That is the story of how I found ‘The Immortals’ by S. E. Lister and without forestalling too much, it’s the beginning of an infinite love.

This a story of falling through time, of an uncontrollable journey, of lost wanderers. This is the story of Rosa Hyde, of the Immortals.

“The possibilities of their stories were dazzling. […] In the bright, broken light there was something unreal about the four of them, Tommy Rust and Amber Lakshmi, Nate and Harris Black. As though they were figures fixed in a varnished painting, beyond the touch of air or dust. Rosa thought that they looked everlastingly beautiful.”

In order of a trauma in her father’s past Rosa Hyde has never left the year 1945. In all her seventeen years of life her family and her are forced to live through the same year time after time, from beginning to end and over again. For most of those seventeen years, she did not know how that was possible until she escapes, falling through time. But she finds company in Tommy Rust, a man certain that he will will forever, an Immortal, like her. Roaming the millennia they wander, ever admiring the places, wherever the tides might take them.

“She rose, and crossed the room to the wide window. A pair of passers-by were arguing animatedly, the tinkling of piano keys echoing across the cobbles from a nearby café. The sounding of a motorcar horn, an outburst of laughter. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she lifted her face to the fresh night air. The sky above the city was clear, stars sharp as gems. She remembered when she had looked out over London in the same manner, then flung open her arms and danced with the joy of possibility. At the time no dream had seemed greater than that of keeping her feet on the same ground. How small, how simple-minded the thoughts appeared now.”

But as easily as the tides had brought Tommy and her, and the other Immortals together they fall apart the same, leaving her falling through time all over again.

“[…] perhaps they had already gone their separate ways, four bodies spinning off into space. You could find them if you wanted to, Rosa reminded herself. You will find them again f you only catch the right current, in the right place. There is no call for panic, gypsy girl, much less grief. After all, you never belonged to one another.”

But from that point on something is different. It seems that the tides too are aware of it’s travelers, and that the harder they hold on to anything that is dear to them, the faster it all falls apart and there is nothing they can do.

my thoughts- As you might have been able to tell, I did not expect to like this book as much as I did, but also know, that it is unlike others. The Immortals is not like other time traveling novels, in my eyes. I have always, until The Immortals, thought of something you do willingly, with an automaton or something. The Immortals are either born with the ‘ability’ to travel through millennia or are assigned with it by an Immortal close to them. Whenever a tide takes them, they fall, never knowing where they will arrive, only being able to take with them what they are carrying at that moment. I find the idea of that very fascinating and beyond anything I have yet read on the topic. It feels more real, to me in a way, than all other forms of time traveling, especially because it is so abrupt. But that surely isn’t all. In my opinion The Immortals is another one of those books more about the characters than the plot. The plot is messy and unordered, which is a little disturbing from time to time, but spreads a certain atmosphere and is with that an important part of it. The characters too are all a little strange, but well developed in the context of the plot. What made me love this books so much, you ask yourselves? The writing. As you might have already realized, it’s likely a book gets right to my heart just in order for it’s style. With The Immortals I have found another vastly beautiful collection of words that I will most likely hold dear for the rest of my life. It is a book made for dog-earing pages and underlining sentences. Here is some proof, if you doubt it…

“[…] wished she could look in every direction at once, that each part of the scene was a page in a book she could open, savour, open again.”

“The collection of stars wheeled within his oversized eyes, as though they took in all of the universe, as though he had swallowed it whole.”

“They were sitting out on the balcony in the late afternoon, sipping hot coffee, coats about their shoulders. The autumn sunlight cast a rosy glow over the rooftops and the cobbled street below […]”

“And what do you know. What did you ever know, gypsy girl. That disembodied grin which was once bright with golden promise, wide as a never-ending lifetime.”

…I think that should be it. The last thing I have to say about that book- i you are still looking for a special book for autumn, this should be added to your list. It has some massive autumn vibes, I can’t even say why, but it just seems to be written to be read with rain outside the window, a lit candle and under the warm sheet of a bed. It just feels right. Give it a try (and if you actually do so, tell me all your thoughts!).

If we were Villains by M. L. Rio

IMG_5352.JPG“For someone who loved words as much as I did, it was amazing how often they failed me.”

Imagine living on words. Imagine living throughout the words of another person. A person who lived far before your time being. I am talking about Shakespeare. Imagine dedicating your whole existence to Shakespeare.

“‘Do you blame Shakespeare for any of it?’ The question is so unlikely, so nonsensical coming from such a sensible man, that I can’t suppress a smile. ‘I blame him for all of it,’ I say.”

That’s what Oliver and his classmates at Dellecher do. Or rather, once did. Because it’s been ten years since Oliver has last been at Dellecher, serving ten years for a murder he may or may not have committed.

“‘It’s not all bad. I still get letters trying to convince me that you’re innocent.’ ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I get those, too.’ ‘Are you convinced yet?’ ‘No. I know better.'”

Being released after all, he finds that he is not the only one, who cannot forget and after ten years, he might finally be ready to share what happened a decade ago.

“Could I explain it all to Colborne, the little twists and turns and final exodos? I study his blank open face, the gray eyes winged now by crow’s-feet, but clear and bright as they have always been. ‘All right,’ I say. ‘I’ll tell you a story. […]'”

As they start their fourth year of acting at the elite conversatory Dellecher they think it is going to be just as it has always been. The seven of them, never apart, playing the same roles in life as on stage.

“Enter the players. There were seven of us, seven bright young things with wide precious futures ahead of us, though we saw no further than the books in front of our faces.”

But then everything begins to shift as castings get changed and the friends seem to drift apart. And all of a sudden they find themselves actors in a tragedy they never intended to play. Their every-day rivalry becomes more and more present until one of them is found dead, while the rest of them have to face their most significant role yet. Convincing the police, and each other, that they are innocent.

my thoughts- I bought this book before having read The Secret History by Donna Tartt and remember being unsure about buying it for exactly that reason. You’re probably asking yourself what this has to do with The Secret History, well, it is said to be similar to it and I thought, why have two books of the same kind, without you knowing if you like it? I had already fallen in love with the cover though, so I ended up buying it. Then I read The Secret History and liked, but was far from loving it. I had my doubts about this book after that, but started reading it anyways, a few weeks later. I was drawn to it from the first page. If We Were Villains hooked me in all the possible ways. It is written in in first-person, from Oliver’s point of view, and has a unique, yet easily understandable writing style, that was straight forward or describing at exactly the right times, which made the plot have a good pace. The writing style also made a good access to the the characters possible. I liked Oliver since page one and rooted with him all throughout the story, looking at things through his eyes. Him and all other characters were really well developed. Some points of the plot itself were a little predictable, but that makes complete sense, because it fits Oliver’s character (as you will learn, while reading the book) to realize some things a little later than the rest, meaning relations ships going on unofficially and stuff. I also really loved the way the story was told. In the ‘now’ at the beginning of each ‘act’ to then continue by looking back at past events, like unraveling it the other way around, from back to front, from present to past. That was a refreshing way to deal with a murder case in a book. Another thing I was obsessed with was the autumn-ish, fall-ish feeling it spread. While reading I stumbled over some incredibly beautiful fall quotes, that I still have to go look for again sometime soon. And there is more positiveness about it. If we were Villains easily manages to encourage to read Shakespeare, and a lot of it, I feel. Reading the characters act out all those plays and roles from works like ‘Macbeth’ or ‘Romeo and Juliet’ gives me a lot of incentive to check them all out and to study them. What else I can say is that it stays suspenseful until the very very end, but there’s nothing more coming from me now. I’m done, and you, you just go get the book. Oh, and don’t you dare not tell me if you end up liking it!

If you haven’t got enough of this book yet, go check out my currently developing If we were Villains board on my Pinterest.

yours, anna xx

de Paris.

Bonjour, mes amis. Je ne sais pas si tu sais, mais j’aime français, privilégié la ville de Paris. I know, I know, I’m getting back to english now, but since I have recently been to Paris for the fifths time and it it starting to feel a tiny bit like a second home, I thought I’d tell you a bit about my love for the city d’amour and throw in some shots I took throughout my time there while I’m at it. Before we get started, if you are from Paris or France, I do not mean to offend in any way. Things as the typical clothing style surely do not mesh with everyone and I know that.



Let’s talk about the Parisian clothing style first. As you might know, I am obsessed with the simplicity and at the same time elegancy of the Parisian clothing style. I like the thought of putting on red lipstick and pulling up ones hair only to go out to pick up breakfast (though I’d probably never be brave enough to actually do that, but if it’d be part of the simple life, maybe I would…?). Beside the hair styles and make-up I can most identify with the clothes itself. There aren’t many colors when referring to a Parisian outfit. There is black and white, sometimes red in accessories, as a nail polish or lipstick, and then sometimes there is this light shade of brown and that’s it. Black and white stripes play a big role in french fashion, just as coats, turtle neck sweaters, blouses and very feminine shoes. The accessories are kept simple, just as the colors and clothes itself. There might be small earrings such as pearls and surely perfume. And while at it- Have you ever seen a Parisian woman walk around carrying a bag pack? No, you have not of course. It is common to have all important things in a small handbag. All in all the Parisian clothing style is kept very simple with little highlights, but mostly very expensive as the clothes usually is of well-known brands.




To get on to the food. Everyone knows Paris for their good and mostly exquisite kitchen. While there are quite many specialities, I find myself drawn to french pastries and bread. This sounds very boring indeed, but Paris is the best place to get a Baguette. A long bread, you think? Far more than that. Bakeries all around the city sell fresh Baguettes with almost anything you can imagine. Chicken, salad, turkey, tomatoes, mozzarella and so on and on, and you cannot imagine how good a lunch this makes. Every time I have yet been to Paris, I mostly ate bread, for like the whole week and it does not even get boring, I swear. Another french treat I love are croissants. I can never get enough of them. I mean, you can have them all around the world mostly, but a croissant in Paris? Even the thought makes it taste a hundred times better. Surely I have to talk about Crêpes as well. As a kid who grew up eating mostly nothing but Crêpes when- and wherever I could, eating this in Paris is a match made in heaven. Just like croissants they taste better than anywhere else and are can be ordered in what feels like a hundred variations, sweet and salty and can be bought every 200 meters. Not to forget Paris special and exquisite treat the Macaron. It is a sweet treat that comes in different colors and flavors. The price of it is pretty shockingly expensive but if you ever get to Paris just treat yourself to a few and enjoy.

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Processed with VSCO with a6 preset

Processed with VSCO with a6 preset

The following paragraph will refer to the experience I have made according to the people and language in Paris. The times I have been there I have made good and bad experiences alike. With my family, when I have been to Paris the first few times, people on the street weren’t willing to help to help us find a certain Metro station for example, acting as if they could not understand us in neither English nor simple French. The last two times, this had changed. I have had people just suddenly starting to talk to me, asking me if I need help or where I am from, being interested in who visits their city. Referring to the language I would definitely recommend you to have some french vocabulary at hand when going to Paris. Just look up some words or phrases you think could be helpful in advance. If you want me to I can even send you a vocab list with useful stuff I made for my class for my most recent trip to Paris. Don’t be afraid to ask!


Lastly I have a few tips for you on places you should visit (places I like best). The top tip from me, which I keep taking about is that if you want to see Paris from above, then you should not go up the Eiffel Tower (which is a fun thing if you go up by stairs, don’t get me wrong). In my opinion you have the best view on Paris from the Arc de Triomphe, because from there you get to see the Eiffel Tower and believe me, it is simply so beautiful. You will not regret it! A must-visit tip is for all my bookworms is Shakespeare and Company near Notre Dame. It is a heaven for all people who love books, even to those who do not. Many books have been written about it and throughout the many years it has already existed many incredible people have been there (such as Allen Ginsberg!!!). Juts give it a chance and thank me later. The area all around the bookstore in general is my favorite to be around in Paris, because it unites a lot of lovely thing. In many little streets there you can get all kinds of different foods, there a little parcs to rest with benches and small stores and great places to get souvenirs for an acceptable amount of money. So if you only have a day in Paris, spend you time all around Notre Dame and check out the view from the Arc de Triomphe and you’ll be all set! So this is a big yes to the Paris! By the way, you are free to send me question referring to a trip to Paris any time and I will try to answer them as best as I can.