HELLO I AM IN MONTREAL
I am dizzyingly tired. My mother and I had an uneventful journey, our room is lovely, the restaurant downstairs was lovely, I love this city. And it’s cold and perfect.
I surprised myself by actually carrying on conversations in French. Like actual back and forth, multiple sentence exchanges.
The emotional shift I experience when I am suddenly anywhere but here is so visceral. I walked out of the hotel after dinner, and I just felt — happy. Okay. Confident and capable and a little sexy, and as though I rediscovered the me-shaped hole in around which I ooze, poking feebly at the edges, and remembered there is a shape to it after all.
I wish I could ever feel that when I live in a space, instead of existing by definition of my absence.
Have some pictures anyway.