pas de probleme.

today i walked down the cobble-stone streets of bordeaux, holding a baguette, smiling wickedly to myself.

i sure fooled them, i thought, leaving the boulangerie beaming from the french i spoke. and, i sure fooled myself, i thought as i slowly collected the pieces of my blueprint torn to shreds, the cobble-stone streets littered with it. maybe a bit of my heart, too. nowhere it belonged.

but that’s the thing of life, you know. you do. fate, hey. it’s a ridiculously experiential thing. give it to me in a little glass jar, watch me wring it from my skin. my soul. my lips and eyes and ears listening all day to french voices. words. exuberance.

you can’t wipe the smile from my face. i’m french for a week, it suits me just fine.


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