They give pieces of chocolate with their coffee. I have to remember that grazie has turned into merci. A woman with purple horn-rimmed glasses and blunt bangs asked if she could follow me into the boutique. She smelled like a perfume one of my friends wears, but it was too distant to name. The one in which the clothes all have funky geometric patterns in clashing colors. She asked me in French and I didn’t correct her, nor did I know what she was saying. I smiled and she pointed to the door and opened it. I picked up a sweater and she ran a finger down the sleeve and said something in fast french. I imagine it was about the quality of the material. I watched her mouth as she talked. I must have looked intense as I tried to pick up a word or two because she touched my arm and gave a squeeze. She cocked her head to the side, looked at me again and then wrote something down in her notebook. She wrote with a Mont Blanc pen. I wondered how many people she had followed into the store that day. The store was too expensive and I turned to go. She followed me out and asked me to sign something. I asked her in English, forgetting the game, what it was for. She laughed and answered that she was writing a linguistics thesis. She asked if I was spanish because I looked like her friend who lived in Madrid. I signed her slip and wished her the best of luck and gave her a hug, which must have surprised her because she did not move to return the gesture, rather kept one arm holding the notepad to her chest and the other soldier-straight to her colonel mustard yellow pea coat.
Sky on Fire
The sky is on fire right now. The Belgian gray has given way to the ambre of color. Pink turns to yellow turns to orange and somewhere in the palette cornflower has leaked in. I sit at the large bay windows in Jean’s living room. The lights are turned off because I’d like to give the color and attention to the sky right now. There are 3 ponies playing in a small field across the narrow road. They drink water from a bath top and spontaneously take up chasing one another. What do they think about all day, these 3 friends? The smallest, patterned auburn and white, seems to be the most rowdy of the bunch. They seem not to notice the sunset. Perhaps they have seen one too many to get excited.
I ran around Jean’s little town, Vedrin, today. It is my favorite way to see a place, I’ve discovered, is to let my foot falls grow excited, to taste as much of the black top and the new place as possible. Let my feet be greedy until they can’t take it anymore. And of course,, as it happens, I got very lost along the winding streets. I place a lot of trust in my internal compass, that it will remember how to retrace the steps leading to home. Well, I was wrong, and ended up seeing much more of Vedrin and neighboring Namur then I had planned.
There is something so beautiful about solitude. Perhaps I am at heart an introvert, as I was very much content to be alone today. I had time to move at my pace, to be with myself, to be quiet when I wanted to dance when I needed to (to Stromae’s Papaoutai of course). It is something I always knew but has been made apparent while traveling and spending so much time with other people: space very much matters to me. I am so thankful to be here with one of the best human beings I know, my dear friend Jean, but even so I welcome this moment when the door is closed and I sit alone in the peace of a Belgian nighttime.
I can’t help but think of the ghost companion. How lovely it would be to be share this moment with him. To have him sit next to me as a lover and adventure companion. To be each alone as we enjoy the quiet together.
Forward Erin 