We arrive back from the country and can really move into our sublet apartment which is, by any meaning of the word, GORGEOUS. It’s HUGE for Paris with giant picture windows overlooking a busy plaza. A grand piano sits in one of them and I play and play and play. Two bedrooms, an office and a big kitchen…..all ours. I am spoiled rotten and feel as though I am sneaking around someone else’s life. It’s easy to feel as though this will at any point be taken away, I will be shipped back to New York and reinstalled in my corporate job that is quickly becoming a distant memory.
In the tradition of my famous great-cousin Virgil Thomson, I am now a musician living in Paris. Rock on.
We go grocery shopping and I nervously cling to FB for fear of doing something stupid. For a ballsy girl, I sure feel off balance. It’s uncomfortable but as long as I can stand next to him, everything is cool. I wonder if I can follow him to his job where he will start work tomorrow morning and I could just sit in the back and look at him with my mail order smile. Sigh.
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