Bonjour, Paris !

What a shock to open my eyes this morning and find myself in a different place. Where? I can almost call it home after spending four months with you. I’m back in my old room with suitcases and boxes remain unpacked all over the house. Everyone is running around getting Christmas ready and I’m just hiding here, trying to get used to be away from you. I’m afraid I won’t ever do, not after all that we’ve been through, so I won’t bother messing up my playlists.

I feel surprisingly calm on my first day back in England, under what I used to call the addictive grey sky, as I felt rather lost during my last few days in your embrace. I managed to get all the au revoir presents to all the people that matter in my Parisian life so that took a little bit of burden off my chest.

              i cannot write
              i cannot read
              i think of you
              and i can almost breathe

At the last minutes I met some new good friends, par chance, and the long night at Très Honoré Bar helped me complete the picture of you. Delicious champagne, although I ended up wanting a gin cocktail anyway (rive gauche girl curse); wonderful company, although my head was battling a war no one else could enter (poet curse); sexy cabaret and fabulous party, although I ended up sitting in an armchair in the corner, watching my friends dance away under the lights and the shadows (the Great Gatsby curse) – I felt so at home somehow, I could almost see the complete picture of myself. The haunted child, the insecure teenager, the hopeless princess, the solitary warrior, the dark poet, the real Parisian, the author of an unwritten novel: almost all of me.

Then the party was over, inevitably, but not before it infused its contagious sense of freedom in me. A long, almost sacred walk way past midnight around rive droite before reaching back to the historical pain of Latin Quartier, where my present life was all packed and ready to leave.

             the chairs are piled
             the numbers fly
             i look at you
             now i can almost breathe

Back in the beautiful countryside of England, having proper supper at the old dining table for the first time again, I was hoping for a conversation about the weather to help me feel British once again but, bad luck, my man was asking if I saw the biggest full moon that couldn’t be seen from this country due to heavy clouds. This theme just sent me straight back to you, mon Paris !

That moon, I don’t normally look up but that night I saw it clearly with my whole being, shivering inside from the existential split between the chaotic carpe diem and my innate principal of order and harmony. Last concert to attend at Le China was done, last jeudi soir jam at Caveau Des Oubliettes followed by a farewell l’after until light were flashing before me, yet some part of me just wanted to be selfish and prolonged a private romantic dream in my mind, making notes of what truly matters.

           this dream is a new language
           though i’ve learned so many others
           the river and the moon
           i walk the bridge
           since i can almost breathe

Caveau and long l’after (lasted until just before midday) won and it was such a good closure to all my ups and downs during my Parisian living. I got a clearer idea about who my true friends are and where each one fits in my different sides of life, who deserve my smiles and who deserve to see my tears, who belong in my mind and who belong in my heart – oh I’m such an acute romantic!

My beloved Parisian brother and neighbour came later in the evening to take over some of my Parisian possessions including my greenhouse and plants. He also handed me the most personal gifts: a beautiful autumnal designed notebook and a bottle of proper absinthe, which is now super rare even the city of mad poets. Big hugs, big kisses, big plans of finishing our musical work together, big lumps of crystals in my eyes – oh isn’t leaving Paris hard enough!

That night, sitting alone in my apartment, I got chill all over my body. My heart was exploding, cold sweat starting to come out; my brain was delirious, my body was inert – I wasn’t sure what was going on. I still am not sure even now.

            i cannot sleep
            i cannot love
            i’m leaving you
            soon i can almost breathe

Take care, Paris. Try not to miss me too much. This is not a goodbye, this is l’after. The next party shall be thrown.

                                                                                    je t’embrasse !

                                                                                    d.o., le 2ème decembre 2016

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