Paris. So many people. To find oneself alone among so many others is quite the paradox. I am again made certain that happiness can only be full when shared. My best moments here have been interactions with strangers. Should I have brought my Bit? Perhaps no. It is good to be alone. To be tranquil. To find contentment in solitude. To miss those we love. To feel and appreciate their absence. Nick. Where are you? The hole that you left in my heart I cannot fill. How can Bitty grow up and not know you? How can anyone really know me without having known you?
Everyone is eating ice cream. I love it. Indulgence. And so much walking and lots of stairs–shouldn’t we indulge? Someday I would love to have a place with a balcony. And I will have red geraniums. And they will live and be beautiful and draw the attention of strangers and remind folk of youth and love and holidays. I am so often convinced that people are just that- people. We all share the same fears, hopes, insecurities, comforts, familiarities. What the world am I looking for? Why do I always want more?
A warm breeze. One of my very favorite things. I have searched the whole world over looking for the things that I thought could fill my heart and ease my pain. There’s a yearning deep inside me and a longing to be free. Humanity. Simple Connections. Purity in anonymity. To seek a connection and nothing more. No friendship. Yesterday a man gave me a pen and two books, the pen I use now. Another man got me a seat in a sold out show, another bought me a cafe. Two Australians bought my drinks last night. A Syrian political refugee bought me a beer tonight.
The French waitress was beautiful, very sweet, a kind presence. She writes, she saw me writing and said she does the same– that she must. I challenge myself henceforth to pursue writing. A sweet release. To put on paper the thoughts that often cloud my mind, perhaps seeking their own escape.