Today, as I continue to clean up the mess I've been creating in my studio by closet cleaning and stuff sorting, I am mentally taking myself to the south of France (where I have yet to be, physically). There I am, sitting at a street cafe, sketching like Sara Midda,
or Laura Stoddart (two of my favorites).
The cafe'au lait is getting cold as I sketch, but I will order more. The day is warm, not hot, not cold. I am wearing a red beret (naturally!). The waiter says something to me - probably that I have been at the table long enough and it's time to move on, but since I don't understand french, I just smile enigmatically and keep sketching. I am far from piles of stuff that I don't know what to do with. Far from undone laundry. Far from having to thaw something for dinner. And my thick new leather sketchbook has many blank pages to fill.
A lovely fantasy to take me away...
Listening to Edith Piaf keeps me there.
(I bought this lovely little photo at a yardsale, in a stack of old photos from someone's travels to France.)
1 comment:
You have to go to France! My Mom recently decided to go back to school and she's been studying french history. She'd never been outside of North America before and she simply adored France.
I actually got the chance to visit her there a couple of summer's ago. France--especially the south of France--was the most fantastic place I've ever been. Much as I love the UK, it just can't hold a candle to Provence. The picture at the bottom of your post takes me back! The crazy thing is that Paris looks exactly the same today (at least around St. Germain).
I wish I was able to go with her again this summer, but alas, I too will have to be doing my French vacation in my imagination.
~Margaret
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