Reverie: noun, a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream.
Clouds clearing, light returning, winter fading. It's a slow transition, but it's happening. The first bulbs are blooming, green buds are shooting from branches and the sun is beaming, bright and shiny. With nothing much to say and nothing much going on at all, I look to the past because thankfully there's plenty to reminisce on. While trawling through my archives of half finished stories, ideas, poems and thoughts, I came upon this short passage I wrote after a long weekend in Paris. I think it embodies exactly what I'd love to experience right now. New places, sights, sounds, tastes and freedom to explore. I actually came back from Australia itching to explore Europe; craving the cobbled streets, rich cultures and deep history. Soon I hope. For now, a reverie from a distant but very real reality: Morning in the Marais Sunlight floods the studio, beaming through the glass doors, shadow play on the walls. Its early, the promise of the day, an adventure in waiting. Leaving my sister sleeping soundly, I slip from the room, throw on my running clothes and head out to meet Paris on the streets. The city is waking up around me, maitre ds setting up chairs, facing the road like theatre stalls, shutters thrown open, espresso machines fired up; businesses getting ready. Beneath my feet, the paved road becomes smooth cobbles; I wonder how many feet have tread a path over them; where they went, who they were. Weaving through narrow streets, along sweeping boulevards, past grandiose buildings; the beauty of Paris is overwhelming to my wandering eyes. A peek through open doors reveals a pastry kitchen, the scent of sugar and yeast floods the air. Masters at work. The boulangerie emits similar intoxicating scents, i spy wicker baskets of fluted baguettes, piles of expertly scored and browned loaves line the shelves. Quaint buildings in pastel shades,hand painted signs, creeping ivy climbing the walls, my eyes are hungry for all of it. Eager to see more, I keep running. I reach the Seine and run along the paved bank, by afternoon there will be people picnicking under the trees, sprawled on the grass enjoying the late summer sunshine. But now its just me. My imagination packs a picnic of fresh crusty baguettes, juicy strawberries and perfectly ripe peaches, plump olives with garlic and lemon, glistening tarte aux fraises and sweet pistachio macarons. Later. Crossing the Pont Neuf to the Left bank, the Notredame behind me, the cities’ history is preserved all around me. The most visited city in the world but this morning, its all mine. I read the street signs Rue de Pontoisse, Place des Vogues, Pere Lachaisse; the words feel like velvet on my tongue, I love saying them, finding joy in the sounds not the meaning. They are like France itself; rich, sensual delicious. I return to the Marais, retreading familiar steps to the apartment. I rush back up the tiled stairs and wake my sister with still warm croissants which we eat on the balcony. The sun is up now, illuminating the day ahead; beckoning us to explore and discover the cities secrets. As winter fades into Spring, the air is changing and hopefully with it, the gloom that has inhabited all winter long. We can only dwell in the darkness for so long, as humans we need hope, freedom, interactions. How we have been asked to live is unnatural and it's becoming increasingly unbearable. We need to look forward into brighter days. So here's to exploring sun drenched corners of the world; to carefree days enjoying being alive in the world. Those days are coming again; look for the light and you'll surely find it.
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LittlebirdJenna. Free spirit, flower enthusiast, seeker of truths. Archives
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