Friday, July 21, 2006

d'être l'étrangère

This week marks a month since I moved out of Paris. It feels like much longer. Traveling is an adventure but I feel more and more like a foreigner without anything to tie me down.

Last night upon my return to Avignon, I walked up early to the Palais des Papes to sit in the twilight and enjoy the view and I happened upon Carolina, one of my good friends from Paris and her boyfriend François. I could hardly believe it. We planned to meet for coffee this morning. Then I saw Les Barbares, which is Gorki, the same writer who wrote Platanov, which I loved. I had some problems with the mise en scène (read: directing) but I can't blame the director entirely, it is just not written with a central thread but the director did very little to magnify whatever there was. There were interesting scenes, but I found myself emotionally exhausted at the end from trying to attach myself to the characters. I went back to my hotel and crashed big time.

Met Carolina for coffee this morning. She's here tagging along with her boyfriend and his troupe, who are putting on a few shows at the Festival. I'm gonna catch one tomorrow before I leave town. Carolina is really incredible. She's disastrously beautiful, full of mysterious power and intensity, but carries herself with such breathless grace and ease that it almost hurts to watch her. She's one of those creatures that floats through life on a cool air and the rest of us can do nothing but chase after her for a glimpse. How I wish I had her luck. She's Italian but she's lived in Paris for 7 years, we talked about her current amours, and the possibility (which tears me up inside) of moving to Paris after I finish school.

I think about doing it every day and yet there is so much against it and so much for it and so much of me that would like to escape forever but knows there are chains that forever bind...j'en sais rien. I don't know how I feel, I feel mixed up inside, dizzy, like that game where you put your head on a baseball bat and spin around 7 times. Then someone pushes you and you wander stumbling forward while your eyes search for a clear horizen.

Tomorrow Hervé comes to pick me up and we'll spend 4 blissful days at his house in the country.

I miss you all terrible, but mark your calenders! I come home on August the 13th!

biz,
Debra

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