Some enchanted evening...
No boys, no friends, no maniacally laughing masses.
Just me, and princess, arm in arm, wandering down to the bistro that I take all my outsiders to.
Seb stopped by to show me his plane tickets on our way out, and we said hello and smiled a lot and then wandered on our way without pausing too long.
We passed by a few of the myriad florists in my quartier, wondering aloud why it is that no one back home ever spends time on flowers unless they're for a girl who'll be upset if she don't get 'em.
Here somehow, they're less expensive, less of an extravagance, a three dollar glass carafe is a good enough vase and my kitchen becomes a colourful thing.
For dinners, someone always comes by with a bouquet, sometimes two, and in between whenever I pass this or that stand at the fresh outdoor market...
Perhaps I've become bourgeois.
Dinner was delightful, artichoke salad and escargots in a basil sauce, steak with foie gras and lamb chops and sauteed potatoes, strawberries and cream, tarte tatin...
Wine and hilarious talk of very unladylike, but somehow very feminine things.
Wandering about the neighbourhood on the way home, the laughter was all our own, rebounding off the stone walls and dancing about our ears.
Bed early with books and more talk of graphic things, and this morning I stretched into the sunshine, strangely satisfied.
Tonight it's movies and billiards and tomorrow is corset shopping and Sunday is the musee de ROdin, Monday my singing lesson, TUesday Versailles, THursday Chartres, Friday Rouen...
Sunday after Limoges, THursday after lunch with Alexe who's arriving from Montreal, and Friday,
oh Friday,
Friday I hop a plane with the tickets I hold so tightly clutched in my little fists.
For better or for worse, I'm going to wander the streets of MonStreal and see if it still hides that part of my heart in the polluted clouds of the river.