Missing BsAs

I got back two days ago.
Paris was all grey when my plane landed. As I was walking out of the airplane, a young Argentine next to me was calling his novia to say he arrived well. ´Te mando un beso, mi vida´. My heart sank. The familiar sound of my beloved French irritated me - I longed to hear castellano, with the porteño accent I had become accustomed to, and came to love.
I am still feeling sort of - confunded (yes, as in Harry Potter). I have been falling asleep most of the time, and randomly unpacking in between, listening to tango, trying on tango shoes, drinking mate, listening to tango, dreaming, drinking mate, writing mails to BsAs, listening to tango. I know I shouldn´t listen to tango, but can´t help it. Besides, I need to get all the CDs I´ve brought back with me into my iPod, and that takes time.
It is cold here. That doesn´t help. I miss - many things. Too many. I am still too stunned and numb with pain to plan going back. There are so many beautiful places in the world, and only so many one can keep going back to. And the emotional ties are too intense. I don´t want to go back one day. I want to be there, now.
I can´t help thinking that at this moment, I would be having breakfast at La Viruta, and then taking the 151 home - it would stop right in front of the door to our house.

:)Oh, but don´t feel too sorry for me. It was worth it, every bit of it;)