Sunday, October 2, 2011

Dear Noah,
this is my last letter I will write to you from here. I may even be home before you get it. I don't want you to pick me up from the train station, I want to surprise you when I get there. You can't imagine the places I've been to, the things I've seen. I found you in all of it. Gertrude Stein said, "America is my country, and Paris is my hometown." I'll always feel that way about Paris. I want so much for you to know what it's meant to me. It's turned cold out, but I don't feel cold. Across the street someone is playing La Vian Rose. They do it for the tourists, but I'm always surprised how much it moves me. It means seeing life through rose colored glasses. Only in Paris where the light is pink would that song make sense, but I'll have it in my pocket when I get home, and I'll take it with me wherever I go from now on. We're going to leave this place and run away here and find ourselves again.. I know you will love as much as I do. I've missed you so. I'll see you very soon, love.


  1. This is so, so beautiful. You have the most wonderful way with words.

  2. I agree with Thea, this is so, so beautiful. And you indeed have the most wonderful way with words. I think more people should comment here. I mean, it doesn't make sense to me at all how little comments your latest posts seem to have. Such beauty as your words shouldn't be ignored.