My mother took a picture of me talking about the architecture, hence the Silly Hands of Enthusiasm.
Example of aforementioned architecture.
Me trying on the most beautiful shoes in the existence of time. (Far, far, far too expensive. Unfortunately.)
Amsterdam was everything I'd dreamt of and more. My first day was spent in consistent awe. (I've seen beautiful cities before, but this? I was not prepared to lose my heart so fast and so permanently.) My mother and I kept stopping every few metres to sigh at the beauty of everything. Winding our way through narrow streets, incredible winds and the incessant tolling of church bells, dodging the most reckless cyclists I've ever seen. It was, in short, spectacular.
(Now it's all school and studying again, long days spent girding my loins for revision. It was the best thing possible to get away from it all for a few days, to visit Van Gogh and Anne Frank and then return feeling a bit more like a person than before.)
(My mother took all the pictures, I was too lazy to bring along a camera.
So thank her, that is if you indeed wish to thank anyone, for the visual evidence.)