It&#039s grey again. Indiana gets like this in the spring: days of sunny, flowery cheeriness only to be interrupted by grey wind and rain. It&#039s like a hyphen or em-dash in the midst of the week. It&#039s not like Brittany, though. There, the days of sunshine were mere hyphens in the midst of an entire month. Maybe even just a comma here and there during the day, but never for long. Still, I wouldn&#039t mind moving back to France. I think that I would rather have my pick of the location this time though rather than letting the study abroad coordinator pick for me. I suppose I&#039d rather be further inland, deeper in the Loire valley but not as far south as Provence and the Mediterranean. That would probably be too much of a different lifestyle for this little Hoosier farmgirl to handle. Give me green feilds, high skies, dense forests, and a creek or two. Even just living in this city grates too hard on my country-born instincts. Too much concrete, too many buildings, too few trees and too little grass. It&#039s all so black and grey. And on days like this when the grey is mirrored in the blanketed sky, it&#039s that much harder to stay put in my office or apartment, harder to refrain from hopping in the minivan and taking off for the cow pasture and corn fields. It&#039s just too grey.