I decided to splurge yesterday and went with a friend to a bistro that I had never been to before. All I had heard was that the bistro was "kind of different, but good." My friend told me this with an almost puzzled expression, as if she didn't quite know how to explain, but I decided to try it out anyway.
When we arrived at the bistro and walked in, I suddenly had a feeling that I haven't felt since I've been in Tennessee. It was a delicious feeling of familiarity and relief; the feeling of being home. The bistro which my friend had been termed 'different', was entirely similar to my favorite haunts at home: upbeat, artsy, and very busy. Warm reds, browns, yellows and oranges, tall tables and chairs, the aroma of espresso and fresh bread, and the chatter of the employees behind the counter all blended into a wonderful symphony that played 'Theme and Variations of Home'.
Since then I have wanted to paint the walls of my dorm room yellow and orange and draw big squiggly lines on them. If only it wouldn't cost me $150 in 'damages'.