Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Paris Morning Melancholy

I woke up this morning with a little coup de blues.  I'm not sure why, maybe I had a sad dream.  Outside it was snowing miniature flakes. 

Maybe the twinge of melancholy is about being stuck inside.

For the next few months I get to look out over the lovely Montmartre street, but not touch it.  Looking is wonderful.  But perhaps this morning I had the first pang of realisation that just like Sartre's hell, there will be No Exit for quite some time.  The Huis are Clos.  There are lots of wonderful things about that, namely that not having the option to go out means you are relieved of the pressure of partaking all sorts of worldy things you can't really be bothered with.  The responsibilities.  You can just lie back, read, write, wonder... all the things that when in a normal life you start to do, you automatically think of all the things you should be doing and find yourself at Franprix puzzling over yoghurt or speaking shit with someone in a café or picking the dried edges around your fingernails in the eternal post-office queue.  

The only problem is that of course, with the bad bacteria out goes the good too: no poking around bookshops, no destinationless bike-rides, no just sitting at the bar drinking coffee with Omar.

No snow angels.

No witnessing the nuns sing in the Sacré Coeur on Christmas Eve, their ghostly voices dancing and gliding off the gothic interiors to sail out the big doors and over the Paris rooftops and into the night sky like flocks of dreamy birds.   

Maybe you'll hear it from your window if you can brave the cold and open it wide.  But you won't see the nun's faces, nor the faces of the blissed-out public, nor the golden lights over the city from the hill, nor all the twinkly guirlandes strung tastefully in the trees.

You won't drink a spicy vin chaud in a dim-lit bar.

You won't frock up and attend parties.

There are some things you'll miss out on. 

So maybe that's the twinge of blues.  

But it's going away now, with toast and jam and some excellent coffee.  The snow is still falling and it's cosy to watch it from under the covers.  It's nice to be bed-bound anyway, you can finish lots of little projects you haven't been able to sit still long enough to complete, ponder the future, pick over the past, draw some pictures, write lists of things to do in diaries that you wont do and sup on the fineries brought to your bedside by The Love, like a proud daddy lion.

And you can still, always fantasize about tearing up the Paris dawn streets in a Ferrari 275 GTB.


1 comment:

  1. Great video !! It could be so cool if Paris was so empty everytime...

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