I had a busy and fun last weekend. I dragged Theo to the theater with me on Thursday—Theatre de la Huchette, a tiny, 30-seat auditorium where they have been performing the same 2 Ionesco plays for over 50 years. It was bizarre and hilarious and everyone should find a way to read and/or watch French absurdist theatre because there is nothing like it. Fell in love with a 2-year old French boy named Paul. Out to dinner on the Champs Elysee, out to a bar in the sports’ club where Olivier plays some crazy Basque sport that I can’t pronounce, out to a concert with Theo and his friend, out to a dance club, out out out. Whiskey and Bob Marley and Frenchies in my room until seven in the morning. But this week is strange. I am unsettled.
C'est hiver tout d'un coup.
La lumière ici est plus belle que jamais—délicate, légère, vif…elle fait délicatement étinceler la ville, mais elle ne chauffe rien.
Ma tête est déjà ailleurs, malgré mes efforts
J’ai commencé à faire mes valises.
J’ai visité le Louvre pour la dernière fois.
Je suis allée au Sacre Cœur pour la dernière fois.
J’ai mangé mon dernier croque-monsieur.
Je suis bouleversée.
2 comments:
You are eloquent in English and in French. I feel like quoting Hillel in saying "the rest is commentary" (probably a bad paraphrase, and maybe a bit irreverent in the context, but how can anyone add to your expression of the exquisite and painful nostalgia of leaving an extraordinary place and an extraordinary time?)
Je viens au états unis un mois cet été. Serais-je triste quand je mangerais mon dernier hamburger ?
Joël
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