A night bus to another country. A woman nudging me awake. “Did I miss my stop?” (she did). Helping her find wifi at 4 am. Bienvenue en France! A sense of ease. Femininity. The men wear scarves. Colourful ones. Bright socks too. Leather loafers with shoelaces. A bounce in a step. A glide along the riverside. Nérac. Being picked up at a train station. An artist residency. Kim; a writer. Marybeth; a dancer. A drive through sweeping fields. Looking out a car window. A French manor. Built in the 1800’s. Wooden floors. Black Walnut. Cream walls. High ceilings. A window facing the garden. A desk. A chair. A ceramic mug saucer. Painted with pink strawberries. Time to write! Wait what am I writing again? Waking up before the sun rises. Opening the window. Breathing in the autumn air. One coffee, two, three. Write. Crisis. Write. Crisis. Thoughts fading away into something less dramatic. Calm down, it’s not that serious Robin. Finding the rhythm. Staring out the window at the oak tree. Watching the burnt orange leaves sway peacefully toward the ground. Getting lost in the corners of the room. Letting my mind go. The sheets are so white and clean. I bury my face and curl up in their delicious comforts. The rain patters down. I walk. And walk and walk. Across the sidewalk and past the creperie. Down the park and along the river. The whispering trees arch over the path. The birds like it here. But not as much as me. A new coat. 9 euros. Black trench coat. With buttons. Pale pink roses trailing along the brick wall. Tinged with a red as deep as blood. La vie en rose. Soft familiar tunes. A gentle touch of something sweet. Wooden window shutters. Pale green, baby blue, lilac purple. Tomatoes that taste like heaven. Butternut squash sweeter than candy. Time to say bye. Forcing myself out the door. One last glance at those wooden floors. Oh… those wooden floors. Another night bus. Another city. Lyon. A day with some friends. Eden and Maely. Brioche aux pralines. Another night bus. (Don’t take two night buses in a row). Six days in Paris with Emma. Villejuif. 7 pm and everyone we pass is holding a baguette. Corner cafes. Chairs turned towards the street. A cigarette held lazily. There’s a love affair between the moon and Paris if you didn’t know. The Seine. Glittering with gold and silver light. A sparkling tower. Wandering and talking. Trailing in and out of conversation. The city presents itself if you’re looking. Too many humans in one place. Visitors whose stays are too short and packed tight. An irritated look from a waiter. So many bridges. Pan au chocolate for breakfast and lunch. Flaky softness. Warm melted chocolate. Ok. Time to go. Au revoir mon amour.
France
30/10/2025 – 05/11/2025