About
Like the magpie, I'm easily distracted. But not so easily led.
Contact: inkyheels at gmail dot com
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“You have killed my love. You used to stir my imagination. Now you don’t even stir my curiosity. You...”
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When my friends tell me I'll change for the right person
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Embarrassing story: the other night Andrew and I were drinkin’ and smokin’ in the backyard at his...
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French fashion model Marie-Helene Arnaud sitting at a cafe. Photograph by Loomis Dean. Paris, March 1957.
Now I want to be in vacationing in Paris.
Grand Palais in Paris transformed into an Indian-themed dinner party for the Metiers d’Art show
The word sumptuous comes to mind.
“Proust spent most of his war years writing and revising, feverishly adding thousands of pages to his work about the destruction of both the past and our fantasy of the past, and about the problem of hope that takes the form of illusion. The mourning that Proust expresses most eloquently is not for the loss of what was possessed; it is for the loss of what was, on the contrary, never possessed, but profoundly desired.” Marcelle Clements in Paris is Gone, All Gone
For a few weeks last month, off and on, I indulged in daydreams about living in New York. Not daydreaming about trying to make a splash in any kind of endeavor or to achieve a specific cherished goal. I just want to live there and to enjoy living there without a defined purpose accompanying it. I am succoring this desire a bit by visiting NYC the last week in July. When it will be hot and uncomfortable. This is so the daydreaming doesn’t sprout rogue flowerings of ideas that could lead to actual planning and unrealistic relocations. But then again, I’ll probably at least be open to opportunity.
The NYC daydream seems to be getting replaced lately by the ever-returning daydream of residing in Paris. Again, I don’t have cherished endeavors or goals attached to this desire for a life in the City of Light. I just want to live there for a while and revel in living there. Opportunity is welcome to come my way regarding Paris too. Although the practical senses are pooh-poohing this fantasy even more than they do the NYC fantasy.
These recurring flights of fancy around NYC and Paris are pretty regular and have been for a long time. It makes me wonder if somewhere in the last couple decades I took a detour that led me to where I am now, instead of where my daydreaming life likes to pretend I should be. Then again, this is probably just my wanderlust acting up again. At least I hope that’s all it is. Moving is exhausting.
