Here you can find all of my posts in chronological order, from when I first realised this long-meditated project in my Paris attic.
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Poem: Paris was made for lovers
Paris was made for lovers They say, and I walk solo, Eyes wide at the night sky, The despair of every hollow- Chested towndweller there is, As I exist, not merely try, And drink the pirouettes in, And drink your colours, more, And hold my gloves in one hand, And my healing heart in the…
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Poem: Rewrite
IF I woke feeling like a dead woman And like I had needed to tell my past – It wasn’t you that couldn’t summon Enough to make this summer last: Oh, it was me, who didn’t try, And it was me, who didn’t want, And it was me, who couldn’t cry For something that won’t…
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Paris – Day 21
The office basement is now covered in rainbows. One of my colleagues joked that there must be a mini-bar down there, sure, if I was going so often. No, but there really could be, now! I have made a desolate, brutalist dump into a multicoloured, almost-paradise (if I can get a strong person to help…
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Paris – Day 20
Let’s start from where I had the fright of my life this morning on the bus. So, let me tell you something about Paris buses – unlike in the UK, you don’t have to pass the driver to get on. There are doors in the middle, and at the back. They hope that you come…
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Paris – Day 19
I woke up at 2am to the sound of my own whimpering. I’d twisted my foot yesterday whilst running – I didn’t quite miss the kerb. I fell. Were I a five-year-old child, I would have cried from the pain, but I’m not, and I didn’t – I dusted myself off and continued running. No,…
