Last week began with a bus crash. So much has happened since then that the bus crash feels like an afterthought, even though my shoulder hurt for a few hours after. It took three extra days to write this post -- which felt a little like climbing through a thicket.
In winter the well was dry, so I wondered: why now? Was it listening to Albin de la Simone on repeat? Was it the texture of herbs under my fingers as I chopped them? Or maybe the smell of the lemon zest? (Something that comes to life by scratching a surface?) Was it still the quiet restraint of "Mrs. Dalloway"?
With a boat so big the ride was steady and peaceful. The little towns outside of Lucerne became more spread out and rural the further we rode. There were houses high in the mountains on very steep hills; I marveled to Alistair "how can anyone live there without falling down the hill everyday?" I was happy to read that when Twain did this exact same boat ride, he wondered the same thing. After lunch we moved to the benches on the deck, the sun bore down on us, but the wind off the water kept us cool. The boat turned and we arrived at the very location where Switzerland was founded, the Rütli, marked by a very old and beautiful Swiss crest.
I am full of contradictions. I change my mind so many times, and the only conclusion I make, (a trivial one) is that all my heroes are French women who misbehaved -- George Sand, Colette, and St. Therese (in her own way).
We walk from the metro to the restaurant and Paris looks especially beautiful. The sun won't set for hours, but it's like a prolonged magic hour. The way the streets are angled allows the sun to warm the buildings and sidewalks with an amber glow. We approach the fork in the road where the restaurant sits.
"Be careful," my mother said as I put down a bowl of milk for him, and sat down on the concrete of the carport. I spent a lot of time trying crouched down, meowing, hand outstretched, to the cats that crossed the yard. They usually ignored me or an in the other direction. This cat seemed to need me. His cries were so desperate.