three layers of wintry sleep

entry one

dear paris

In France there is a whole lot of cheese, wine and perfect mannerism. It is the home of my third language and the country I've always wanted to see. There are times when I confused myself, becoming linguistically jumbled and find myself sifting through three layers of language to find the right word.
It's true that the French can speak English but choose not to. It is not true, however, that they don't shave their underarms and detest the English with a passion. They are merely reserved people. They accompany each meal with wine. They talk quickly and conserve their energy for evening. The sun, in its wintry sleep, sets early, around 5h30pm. We eat dinner late and there is never awkward conversation. They smoke alot, even though it's expensive. I think it helps with the cold. Speaking of which, it is very cold here. The temperature is starting to plummet into the minuses and you can feel that snow is on its way. It's in the air that it's coming. The house smells of incense and cigarette smoke and cats that live here. There's something about France and Europe that is so refined, quiet, lovely and romantic. I am sometimes reminded of something and am momentarily sad. But then I realise that he is gone and I am not here for him. I am here because I have wanted to be here for as long as I can remember. That was before him.

Today Maman and I went to Etretat, a small town on the coast. It is the smallest town you can imagine. When you imagine it, you think of poetry. There was hardly a soul on the streets and most of the shops were closed. We walked on the beach which is merely a pebbly stretch. The gulls cried pitifully like in 20th century poetry, resounding about the clifffs that make the place famous. There's a church on the cliffside. The town is just so. No traffic, people yelling. We found a good fire in an old tavern, where we had a hot chocolate.

Just outside Le Havre there is a chapel. It was so cold inside and Catholic. I could have prayed, but all I could do was breathe hallowed frost. A monsieur came inside and began to sing loudly and with pride. We could hear his tenor from outside in the gardens.