Sorry, audience of zero, that I have been gone for so long, and still have little substance to show for it. I have been successfully avoiding my Peace Corp essays.
I have also been talking to Jessie, who is the love of my life and seems to break my heart a little bit each day. She is going to Paris without me, which is one of the cities we agreed that she wouldn't go to without me. Well, I can't do anything about it, nor fault her for her spontaneity, nor her taste in places to visit. I wish I had the money for a ticket, I would go in an instant. She said she doesn't like who she's been lately, and she gets the feeling that she'll find herself again in Paris.
What she will actually find is a whole different Her. Paris is most often the climax of everything going strangely wrong and right at the same time. Paris tells you things that you aren't ready to hear and leaves you to fend for yourself at just the right moment -- when the plunge is too great, but not taking it is a risk you can't afford. Paris is older, wiser, and far more cunning than any of us have ever given her credit for. Paris is a broken heart and homemade pastries at the end of the day. The latter is somehow sufficient to cure the former. I miss Paris with all of me.
Europe taught me what it was to grow up, but Paris taught me what it was to be a woman, and a lady.
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