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Bonjour Paris, 

As usual, I have no idea what I’m going to say to you. I don’t think I can predict my next thought, and since I cannot predict my next thought, I’m not going to predict my next action, or even my next sentence. I’m aware that however awake I think I spiritually am, or however insane people think I mentally am, I still get to do things like other human doings – sorry, beings, I just don’t get caught in the specifics of how things should be done or play out. In fact, the more I live the more I let go and vice versa: the more I let go, the more I live.

The five nights in Montmartre were some of the most ‘lively’ things I had ever experienced. Not because I finally confessed my love to someone I have not talked to or seen for months through a poetry reading at the Dissident Jazz Club – though if you’re sharp it was more of a stand up comedy, a confession of my love for my true self – eh, what’s the difference! Not because I spent most of the time going with the flow, but especially because I spent most of the time being with the flow. 

In other words, not going out much, yet somehow being in the right place at the right time pretty much all the bloody time. When I had café allongé with butter – bless the Parisian waiters for never questioning, I was there; when I walked down – though mostly up, it seems – the cobblestone streets, I was there; when I chopped garlic and cooked in the kitchen, I was there; when I came out to be with a friend out of a last-minute invitation, I was there: 

the right place at the right time. But what about productivity? Oh what about it? I’m a socialist not a socialite, except neither is free. I don’t spend my time thinking about how my sense of creativity, or being, can be transformed into a product to gain wealth and, eventually, freedom; I am already free. I don’t spend my energy going around explaining myself to other people or convincing them of my worth, at least not anymore – though saying ‘not anymore’ would imply the past had significance or relevance to what I am now; I do not see others as buyers.

I don’t even try to get somewhere or something out of  meditating; I’m merely resting in my freedom. So, if you see me as acting unhinged, that’s because I’m on another app – I meant because I’m not trying to impress you – isn’t that impressive? ‘My presence is your present’ isn’t a joke, just as ‘your presence is my present’ is momentarily disappointing! Only joking! Wait, which part is the joke?

On the plus side – or the plus plus side, because there’s no negative side, if you have a date with me tonight, which one of you will, you’ll get to see all of me – albeit the clothed version, the well-clothed version. And if you don’t think you’ve seen all of me almost immediately, that’s because it takes time to see yourself too. Does that mean I’m supposed to be able to see all of you too? Hopefully the clothed version, though I’m not a complainer! Well, yes, ‘I’ in the present shall see ‘you’ in the present. That’s all I can promise, that’s all life promises: a truth for every now. 

Speaking of promises, I promised an elegant woman I met in Caernarfon (would you check out that pronunciation!) to post the same tote bag I was carrying when I was casually complimenting her elegance, to which she kindly replied with a compliment on my tote bag – I gladly took it – on the chin, which she would like for her granddaughter, so I’d better run to Ogilvy & More, remind James how to make café allongé like the Parisians do and grab one of their gorgeous totes before I bug my daughter in bed, annoy my ex husband at lunch time – don’t ask me the specifics, I just do (don’t believe me? ask him, that’ll annoy him) and head back to the boat in Chelsea, with any luck after hugging my chef son au revoir if his shift actually finishes early today! 

sherborne, le 4 octobre 2026

je t’embrasse !

d.o.