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I had a strange dream, Paris. All my dreams are strange. You were not in it, though it ended with me ending a social gathering by saying: I need to go by 11 or 12 for Imagined Paris. It was understood and accepted.

It was a strange dream. I was asked what it was like to drink whisky or cognac; they didn’t even ask what it was like to drink in the morning – was it the morning? I swear it didn’t look like any Wetherspoon I’ve been to! Ah – could they just be British? This uncertainty about the time of the day will cloud my attempt to interpret the dream for sure – “I need to go by 11 or 12 for Imagined Paris” could mean I need to apply for my French long stay visa by month 11 or 12, and now it could also mean by day 11 or 12. Anyway, I answered: this is armagnac actually, but when I lived in Paris I used to drink whisky or brandy at the counter in the corner of an old bar, like a lonely old man, in a dress.

Now, if – when I go back to living in Paris, I won’t be a lonely man in the corner of an old bar, in a dress or a pair of trousers, anymore. I will be surrounded by not only friends but love; I will be not only loved but surrounded by friendships – it won’t be just one or the other. Maybe I’ll still walk in the rain alone, occasionally, for feeling misunderstood. But that’s alright – a falling star would fly back up in a hurry if anyone wished to understand me fully. It’s good to be understood by someone, albeit not fully, and it’s great to never be misunderstood by oneself.

Fuller-bodied (it means I don’t need to eat much) – that’s how I will feel, like the drink in my dream. I will be bolder, earthier, more intense, more artisanal – these are the qualities of armagnac compared to cognac that my Google search came up with, by the way. Being single-distilled, I won’t think twice about launching anything – a compliment or an idea. Will I not? You’re so confusing, Paris, I like it! Well, perhaps single-distilled just means I will be less filtered than I already am, if that’s possible. Hey, anything is possible!

Either way, Paris, you are in for a ride! Maybe not a ride because I don’t drive anymore. A spin? I’m not a good dancer. Hmm, you are in for everything that’s real that doesn’t require that much of adrenaline – how about that? Like a sailing trip? The boat I’m currently living on in Chelsea has neither a sail nor an engine anymore, so maybe like when an Uber boat goes past the barge and makes it swing side to side to jog your balance a little bit. A little bit often, I’d say.

C’est la vie on the River Thames, where I enjoy my isolation in between hosting dinners, working on something with my artist friends and going to the theatres. It’s strange how life seems to be perfectly balanced while I’m living on something that moves all the time. It’s strange to think of moving to Paris when I’m already surrounded by artists in London now. Someone said recently, “I think London is the best city in the world, why would you want to move to Paris?” It’s a dream, and all my dreams are strange. It’s a dream, and I take my dreams seriously.

londres, le 9 novembre 2025

je t’embrasse !

d.o.