Coffee in Paris

I have been wanting to experiment with digital photo collages for such a long time, and this is my first attempt. I spent 10 days on my own in Paris at the tender age of 22, and while that feels like ages ago, I still remember all of these café crèmes so clearly. I went everywhere with my journal in hand, scribbling like a maniac, sometimes taking off my rings and watch to help me write more easily. I love that you can see the raggedy edges of my paper in these pictures, as well as the no-nonsense pen that saw me through it all. And I love how all of these coffees are so different. Front and center is Le Café de Flore, which is appropriate, since it is second to none. Sometimes I got pitchers of coffee and cream, and sometimes I got one cup of coffee, already expertly blended. What I always got was a prime spot for people-watching in a wicker chair. I’ve not written about those days at all in this space, but these past few days, little flashes of that week and a half in Paris and little flashes of the girl who I was back then have been coming to me and organizing themselves into a project that I hope to be able to show you soon. Until then, I’ll be steeping in nostalgia, even though back then all my nostalgia was for the future, such that I can see myself as if on two sides of a mirror, waving, from here and from there.

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