Kept me going this one, through a down-and-out spurt of life.
Mellow knees in places that no longer see fit for me to be in.
Aretha in conversation with free jazz and OutKast following me down the river. It’s snowing there, and I can’t believe how beautiful Paris can be.
Breaking in the city with a midnight walk.
Lights blurred, torn by the cold winter daze and my coat wet as the snow kept coming at it. Moments of awe and wonder weaving into lonesome banter.
Losing myself in an unknown place with unknown faces waiting.
It was a big space we had, round bed to sleep in and rooms that shut with locks on doorknobs. A bathtub with long windows falling out into the quiet of the city night. There was knocking in the hallway and people falling sideways into pillowcases. A bunch of us, and some with red wine sneaking through the alley late, into the early mornings. Group dynamics, out of places we were, each of us.
Remember wandering in front of Notre Dame all by myself, days before the fire broke. Unreal with perfect snowflakes and cold choking the air. An unbeliever, as it seemed too rare unshared and still, it was just me. There, from all the people of this world alive, wondering how they work, those rhythms of the earth.