everyone must think i’m fucking strange, smiling so much to myself.

i’m too happy to hide it – i can’t care less. i’ll smile til the cows come home!

my word, my heart

oh my, there’s something about france.

uh oh, i think i have fallen in love.


it’s like the country has taken me entirely into its belly, its soul, its nuances, people, loveliness. i’m more myself. i can see it and feel it, breathe it, smell it: france, french. and fleeting as it may be, right now it’s all there is.

uh oh, uh oh, i’m madly in love with france.

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.

love letters

one day i’ll be dreaming in french. my thoughts so wholly contained, so wonderfully occupied [by words i don’t know just yet].

we’ll fall in love in french, under the eiffel tower and a blanket of stars. dizziness and loveliness wrapped in the smell of cut grass and croissants. wrapped in serenity. wrapped in whispers, dopey smiles and the silver glow of the moon.

and when i forget to try, those words will fill my mind, they’ll fill my heart, and so easily they’ll flow. you’ll see.

one day when i’m dreaming in french, i’ll be dreaming of you.