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I’m okay, Paris. I feel a bit groggy, yes, from having slept about 3.5 hours every day for the last three days, because there aren’t enough hours in a day to get things done recently, or that’s how I’d like to put it anyway – ce n’est pas ma faute, tu vois? (I know how much you adore it when I speak French in my silly accent) but I’m okay: for the first time in a while, I’m okay about being away from you.
I’m okay and you know I’m not saying it to emphasise that I’m actually not; you know I always make sure you don’t need to guess how I feel – non: je vais bien! Because I know I’m coming to see you in less than a week now; because I know you’re always there for me – or in me – through my busy and chill mornings, and through my grossly-misunderstood sleepless nights; because I know I’m doing everything I can to make us work – you, me and London; because when you’re doing everything you can, there is nothing left to do, or to control – oh j’adore this word here!
Do I miss you? Like letters in a book miss a pair of eyes! Alright, maybe those letters can live without a pair of eyes – untouched, unread, uninterpreted, ununderstood (like some loneliness), but, still: what a waste (unlike loneliness) – and I’m not about to waste my existence without a fight. I’m not fighting, though; I strut daintily in a vintage outfit during the day (I’ve even got my own vintage and designers corner opened in Wimbledon now, where you can find your treasures and even sit down by the shop window and read my printed Paris memoirs – check out @fromdiattic on instagram for more) and I think deeply – sometimes about doing admin – in the darkest hours of the night because: que faire d’autre?
Alright, maybe I miss you deeper than that pretentious analogy (couldn’t help myself – didn’t want to), but there is so much calm sneakily infused in me recently. Like trust, sneaky trust. Ah, might as well, especially with the uncomfortable chaos of growth flying around in the air for me to catch faster than the spring’s hay fever. Will it last? And besides, is it calm or is it exhaustion? From missing you too much, par exemple. Is it trust or is it lack of time to dwell in doubts? Too many questions, Dina, and why settle?
Why settle indeed! Only four weeks ago I declared I didn’t miss you; that I belonged with you; that there was this achy feeling between my chest and my belly button, and now I think I’m okay about not being with you right now, right this second – whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa – the minutes are still hard, d’accord? But I’m okay. I guess I’m okay with the hardship now. For now.
I guess there isn’t really much to say about being okay, is there? Except the list of contrasting states to being okay – like being anxious to breath you whatever I do, but then I might suddenly not be okay anymore half way through the list. Oui, suddenly – how unfair does that sound – while the process of getting to being okay happens gradually. Sneakily gradually.
Je vais bien, Paris. I shouldn’t get used to it but I’m grateful for it. I have been doing everything I can to make us work – you, me and London, and so it is time for things to happen and to unfold, for me, for us, without much interference from my faux Parisian self, and without any influence from my self-deprecating British mind. It is time for things to happen and to unfold. Suddenly, or gradually. For us. For me.
londres, le 4 mai 2025
je t’embrasse!
d.o.
Imagined Paris 