dearest, most beloved reader
there are tides to my need to share glimpses of my life. at times, it feels as if i need to write of my life in order for it to be real. i need to look back at the pages of my diary and note-taking apps so that i don't pinch myself in my sleep when i dream of reality. other times, sharing feels forced. as if i am opening up the curtains to a half-finished play where most of the actors forget all their lines, and then the crowd escalates into a fit of rage over the money they paid to see this piece, and how disappointing the actual thing really was.
it is safe to say this summer has been turbulent in every regard. harshly and softly do i feel laid into a bed of thorns, trying to get out without a scratch. it is impossible, dear reader. all that is impactful will mark us. all that moves us will move along.
today, august 28th, marks four months in paris. a city i always hoped would love me back the longer i stayed.
and it does, in glimpses. in phases. it would be unlike paris to be so engulfingly warm as palma had been. as colorful and cheery as ensenada is when i come. as bright and buzzing as new york city.
paris has its own charm. one i wouldn't know how to put into words without doing it injustice. it was the right place at the right time. it is not my forever.
this month, if you can imagine it quite visually, has scattered me, humbled me and brought me back to my beginnings. i am going grocery shopping with 25 euros. it is one hundred that i am in possession of, to be exact. one hundred and seven euros and twenty-three cents. i split it in four, one quarter for each week. the rest is for emergencies only.
how far can a can of chickpeas get me, i wonder. a packet of dried beans, a bag of carrots, a bag of flour to make bagels.
it makes me smile to remember what i really need, and what seemed so important right until the point where i could not afford it anymore. i come to feel so thankful to have so many things, so many things i forget i own, so many things easily taken for granted.
one thing i can and consistently will do when i spend too much time in my room is change the layout of my furniture. it is quite the joke amongst my flatmates at this point, how many possible positions i can put my bed, desk and cupboards in until i have tried out every single one. until i am no longer sure which one suits the feeling of my limbs in my own four walls best. and how i can best enjoy the light streaming in through my windows come morning.
unsure, i say. every single change i make feels like the right one, and i always end up thinking, "this is the best my room has looked thus far. i should never change the layout again."
oh, how terribly unwell that sentence ages, dear reader.
as of right now, my bed is placed along the back wall, on the furthest side away from the window, and the desk is opposite. i like to watch the pedestrians going by when i pretend to study with no breaks. it gives me an unnoticed alibi for procrastination. nobody knows where all my time went. nobody except my eyes and the subconscious part of my brain.
the song of the month is my love by hannah jadagu
sending love, and a few pennies i hope to have left by the end of the month
kiki