Behold! The relaxed majesty as my page opens...tingly tangly pillow talk. Over the summer, I was a writer in residence at Cat'Art in the south of France. If you know me, you have already seen the interior and exterior property where I spent time collecting myself as someone else. These other pics are just some additives to permeate my edges.
The scene of the crime.
Yes, the typical doorway in Europe...but this specific one is in Chalabre-- a nearby town about 6km away. I am proud to say that I biked the 12km total to this town with my friends Joanne and Kevin several times. Absolute fulfillment and endurance for this city girl who's normal fancy is yoga a few times a week. We were left with little choice, especially if we wanted certain produce or frozen goodies that the local store, Vival, didn't have.
Throughout the summer, Mercedes and I would chat/screech/yelp many a manic discussion concerning anything from Cecil Taylor to Lucky Strikes. And each time, I managed to NOT have my camera. On my last day, I rode into town with Amanda to pick up some bread and chat with Mercedes and Kevin. Her studio was locked and she was nowhere to be found, so this is the only peek I managed to capture.
The mayor of Ste. Colombe sur L'Hers
Bits and bons,
with Miss Clempson.
The weather was pretty brisk for most of the summer, and we were usually having to cover our arms. That day, Bridget entered the common area at L'ille looking particularly dashing and delightful and Joanne had already tickled my fancy in her scarf and slouchy bag. Chuckling at their collective demeanor, I decided that this couldn't only be an image in my mind. I needed to ruin it by interrupting the pair and snapping a photo. I think the results are worth it.