A hundred black roses were lined up in a hundred glass vases underneath the large window, displaying a cascading and snowy world that clashed with one hundred shadowed, petalled silhouettes. Each thorn, save one, had been meticulously sliced off each of the dyed stems. She knew he did that by hand for her, to remind her that the dark ones were like these flowers. Singular, lovely, dangerous. How many nights had their trainings ended with that harsh reminder, a haunting and longing whisper breathed into her hair.
Thank you Disney for yet another line to live by. You have to admit, that line from Cinderella is lovely. What have I learned about kindness lately? Here’s one secret. Nothing you could wear (sorry insta’, still love you though) will ever be as lovely to the world and those around you as the beautiful simplicity of a kind act. Continue reading “Have courage and be kind, she said.”
Always wonder first thing in the morning…how do I make magic?
Maybe you’re not there anymore. I’m sorry I’ve been gone. It’s been so long that I don’t know what to say.
But let me start with this. I haven’t forgotten about you, and I haven’t ever given up on this project. Continue reading “Forget me nots, for you dear reader. Or why we vanish.”
The apartment was blue, and it wasn’t cold. Moving pictures, paper princesses flashed across the screen, and I watched from behind your tousled brown hair, as the strands tickled the tip of my nose.
I was in a typical Parisian apartment, and by that I mean it was filled with unanswered questions, unexplored corners, cigarette smoke and no pressing need to change any of that. Continue reading “The King & the Bird, or the first time you held me in Paris”
“Will you meet me at La Tour Eiffel? Tonight?” I heard the sounds of a café in the background over the phone. Glasses clinking, French girls laughing- discussing their plans for ce soir, & the love notes of Parisian street music suggested he was already in the heart of the city.
And of course I was late…. Continue reading “How Paris makes you late to your Eiffel Tower rendezvous”
Le Métro de Paris connects the city. Step in, step out. Go ahead and jump the turnstile if you dare. Run away from les contrôleurs, don’t look back. Unless you have somebody waiting, running behind you. Then always look back.
As it turns out, the person I ended up staying with gave me the keys to all of Paris…
Continue reading “My heart beats faster on Le Métro, ligne 12”
“My name is…. and I just moved here. Let’s explore.” Approve. click.
You can’t blame a girl for trying. I’m in a new place, and I don’t know anybody at all. So I posted a string of words, “let’s meet up.” And then I forgot all about it, and my Parisian boys, I’m sorry I forgot all about you. That glass of wine sounded tempting, and watching the stars from your apartment balcon did too. Continue reading “To the Parisian boys I never replied to”
The door snapped shut. Oh god, I had just gotten fired from being a nanny in Paris. In French it’s ‘au pair’, in English: slavery.
Oh shit, the door is closed. I had five euros in my clenched fist and the family had sent me on my way. “Here’s five euros for the train.” Well merci.