I cannot believe I’ve lived in Paris for 16 days.
I also cannot believe my request for a bank account only got approved yesterday (IT TOOK FIFTEEN DAMN DAYS). Moving onwards…
I wrote this last night but I genuinely have no recollection of taking out my phone to do so (I just saw it when I woke up this morning):
Every word I write from these fingertips, from the tip of the pen on the page, is saturated with TRUTH. Not an ounce of the inauthentic exists in my writing. If you’ve heard my words, I’ve meant my words.
I also wrote this poem yesterday about a woman I watched (I’m a creep!), much like when Hemingway sits in a cafe and admires a woman from afar (I’m also a copycat!):
I think I am in love:
Her breathy thank yous
And the way she stares into your soul when she talks to you
And makes you feel completely alone with her
In a crowded cafe
And her pursed lips show
And her ability to make your existence feel valid
In mere minutes of conversation
And the smoothness of her graceful neck
When she tucks her hair behind her ears
She’s beautiful and unique
And spectacular and a dream
And I want to grab her face
And press my lips gently against hers
And have our tongues
So I can savor that breathiness
In a new way:
I think I am in love.
And yesterday I went out for a bite and a drink with my neighbour Anise and it was the most natural and authentic and fun conversation I’ve had in a long time, with a woman I was just meeting for the first time.
Today: I went to Versailles. I have been to Versailles before: last time was either the first or second time I went to Paris (2010 or 2011), and considering how close it is to the city, I decided it was time to pay another visit.
Versailles, as a city, makes me think of Oakville. It’s Oakville and Paris is Toronto. Beautiful, a lot to offer tourists, quiet, cheaper to live but still immensely expensive, and a downtown where everyone knows everyone.
In regards to Chateau de Versailles, my sentiments remain the same: the apartments are nothing to swoon over unless you’re into that kind of thing, the Hall of Mirrors is historic (that’s where the Treaty of Versailles was signed which ended WWI), and the gardens are spectacular and worth the trip.
I’m obsessed with the movie ‘Midnight in Paris’, so I couldn’t help reciting the script in my head as I walked around the gardens…
I took a lot of photos. I did some writing (babbling):
Is loneliness a condition that stems from an inability to love time with yourself (meaning there is also disconnect in understanding and loving yourself) or does it come from an innate human condition to have human connection and affection?
I think I only felt lonely the first three days of arriving here. And nights are lonely for another reason: I’m used to a bed full of fur-babies.
I think when I come back to Canada, even if it’s just after the 3.5 months, I am going to be unrecognizable. I don’t mean physically (though I have noticed my eyes are getting greener – is that what happens when you’re endlessly happy and free?), I mean spiritually. I am transforming, elevating, discovering myself and my existence on this planet, becoming a better version of myself every single day.
I think I’ve discovered the secret of Feminine beauty in this city: it comes back to simplicity. It is effortless. And they carry themselves with the impression that they simply don’t have an ounce of concern for what you think and feel about them. I like to believe I’m the same in that sense, in regards to my own confidence. My confidence is not ego-driven but energy-driven. I don’t have time to invest energy in worrying about the opinions of others (on how I look physically). I only have time to invest in lifting myself and making myself feel – on the outside – like the woman I feel on the inside.
I never walked back home. I didn’t want to walk in a city that left me so uninspired. I found walking tedious and exhausting and even to pick up something just down the street, I would opt for my car. Getting to my destination the quickest was my intention. I was rushing through life the way North Americans always do. I didn’t see what there was to savour… other than hours I spent in a bookstore, of course. There, I allowed myself to get lost, to be immersed into aisles and ideas and moments and silence.
But here, other than the occasional metro hop, walking is how I get around and so I wander. And I’m forced to take everything in: where exactly I am, what beauty surrounds me, how my legs feel from the endless movement, how my breath moves within my chest, what my secrets are hiding right before my eyes, what secrets I need to chip away at so that they may be revealed to me…
If I eventually choose to grow old with someone, I want to be with someone who inspires me in the same way that Paris (and the surrounding area) does. I’m not asking for endless conversation or a pseudointellectual with the need to prove themselves through pointless banter and self-praise. But the mere presence of them, the energy they exude into the universe, is one that inspires others to know them. It’s an energy that encourages others to be a reflection of compassion and passion. I don’t think I could settle for anything less.
I want to look into eyes that give me the same rush of the heart that I get standing at the top step of the Chateau de Versailles, as I look out to the endless garden. I want to feel their breath along my neck, and feel the same as I do when Paris winds caress me there: complete freedom, and yet a sense of security and a feeling of home. I want their touch to feel as safe and as invigorating as each step in the Jardins du Luxembourg makes me feel.
But I also want to do the same for them. When they are with me, I want them to feel a greater sense of purpose in the universe. And I want my energy to endlessly fuel them, lift them, elevate their spirit.
For if we are not constantly bettering one another, what is the point?
I then wrote a passage about being a tattooed and tiny female in Paris. But it’s not something I want to share, here. It’s for me.
Thanks, as always, for reading. If you have a question about Versailles, please don’t hesitate to leave a comment!
Which photo is your favourite?