There are days where I am just a fat, middle aged, boring, tired woman from Surburbia, Denmark whom someone once fired. (No, I am still not over it. I am not deliberately hanging on to it, I am just still really mortified that someone could fire ME. Me, you know?)
And then there are days like yesterday, where on my way to work, I happened to look up just in time not to miss this:
Days where I feel like I am adding so much value, where I feel so appreciated. To paraphrase Sally Field’s Oscar acceptance speech: “They love me, they really love me”. In freaking Paris!!!
Days where lunch was a three-course meal with wine and dinner was champagne and little tiny morsels of this:
And this:
True, my perception of Paris has been greatly romanticized and heavily influenced (read: brainwashed) by my parent’s fanatic love affair with this City of all Cites – but it really IS special. Just the fact that on every corner there is a building that looks like this:
Or the fact that for every 30 meters you walk, you pass a shop window that looks like this:
(A store dedicated to champagne. The decadence.) Or this:
And the people! Sexy-rude, shockingly elegant, perpetually smoking and speaking what I can only guess is a poem about love.
Life!
Some days, you are somebody someone once fired.
Some days, you are somebody someone once hired.
And because there is always balance in the universe, it is oddly reassuring that even on the days where I feel like a VERY V.I.P. (“Very Important Parisienne”) with my pressed business suit and my laptop, I still come home and take my shoes off to find this:
(You can take the bumpkin out of Surburbia but not the Surburbia out of the bumpkin…)
Cinda loves you!
Related posts:
Danish Girl In Paris (Paris, Part Une)
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