in love again

A golden sun poured over the city today.

The romance I had longed for seemed to be sewn into the air, down every back alley I took, and in the eyes of strangers who held my gaze.

I sat in La Place des Vosges with a double cafe creme, under a heat lamp, at a small round table with wicker seats, intimately close to the other small tables.

I scribbled in my journal and stared into the park infront of me. I watched a man in a colourful scarf kick a ball to his son. I watched a man pedal by on his bicycle, a small basket at the front. I watched an old woman inch by with fur around her neck and red lipstick on her lips. I watched the park guard with the large gut wave his finger at children.

I spent the day walking main streets and back streets. I went into a couple of my favourite stores to scout the sales and yet found the crowds to be suffocating.

I walked into small boutiques and admired clothing by Parisian designers. I stopped in a small English bookstore and American foodstore to comfort my eyes with familiar sights. I peeked through gallery windows and stopped in small shops with fun gadgets and kicknacks for sale.

I was afraid to spend too long in any shop, and avoided museums altogether, because I wanted to make the most of the bright blue sky.

When it finally turned dark I took myself out to a sushi bar for dinner and feasted on sashimi and rice. I dined happily alone, eating what I could of the towering plate of sashimi before me. Who knew raw fish could make a girl so happy?

Walking home, I waited to cross the street with a small hunch backed lady. She had a scarf tied around her head and a long winter jacket. When a woman wizzed by without stopping to let her cross, she screamed "Oh that's charming!" I laughed and nodded my head. "These drivers," she said, "I'm sorry if you're a driver...but they can be so rude." "I don't have my driver's license, don't worry," I answered. And we proceeded to talk about driving, about Canada, where I'm from, and about the cold. She tugged a little at my low rise jeans and said "You must be cold!" I smiled and told her I found it amazingly warm today.

France is filled with little old women who love to speak to strangers. These women hold a special place in my heart. I'll be one of them some day. I love sporadic conversations and am always happy to come across one. You'll find them at markets, in the grocery store, or crossing the street.

We went our seperate ways at the end of the street, where she wished me a good night, a good year, a good life, and good luck in eventually getting my license. I wished her all the best.

I walked the rest of the way home under a full moon, full of love for this city again.







i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
wich is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

-e.e cummings