Wanderlust. Lovelust. Writerlust.

I used to premier my thoughts on folded pieces of paper and ratty notebooks that I would find stashed away in closets and purses; left to find years later as I sat barefoot on the floor. These internal notes quickly turned into an 18 year olds' cry for release on forms of social media that strip the youth of today of any mystery. I've always been a writer. I always will be a writer; I just haven't found the right topic to mass produce and resonate with curious readers. I'm far too curious myself. This blog is my knees shaking, heart beating seat in confessional where I decide what should be shared and what is best for the powers that be to know in solitude. Just as my writing has wandered, so has my heart and mind. I have spent 25 years wishing to be somewhere else. Here you can follow my pursuit of the perfect latitude. Here you can sit back in a deck in Montpellier, lose your breath on top of a mountain or sit solo on the coast. This is La Bougeotte de Chelsea; the Wanderlust of yours truly.