Today was the first time in quite some time that I walked through the charming and narrow streets of the Marais. I have simply been unable to. Since I left, back in April, I have felt a force pulling me away, far away from one of Paris' most beloved neighborhoods.
The Marais provokes thoughts of Phil and all of his creepy scheming, or that time he told me in front of Breizh Café that my ass was spreading, and feeding me with insecurities that I'm an underachiever.
Despairing memories of MF keeping me waiting for 45 minutes at Café du Marché, all for him to tell me once again that he didn't want to be with me. Even if I did take the chambre de bonne in the Marais as a last desperate attempt to keep us together, his disregard to my time was confirmation enough that he was done with me. Life in the 3rd arrondissement became more haunting than comforting, especially when I would hear his voice late at night from my window, laughing with his friends on rue Vieille du Temple on their way to one of the many bars and restaurants. Another reminder that he wasn't torn up about the break up. Like at all.
The Marais is the land of MF. He knows everyone. Everyone knows him, and I've let him have his little nest in Paris in our unspoken "custody" agreement of division of property.
For such a dynamic and adored part of town, I've had some really shitty experiences there. It's a shame. But with the bad, there were also some really special moments, making me nostalgic for memories that I have collected like postcards in a box. A box filled with picnics with friends, friends who have since moved to other countries, neighborhood acquaintances whom I'd see every morning at La Perle, and merchants who have come and gone, and some who have even closed up shop....one shop in particular; MF's restaurant.
That. I wasn't expecting.
I finally built up the courage to walk down there with Out and About in Paris' Mary-Kay (after registering to vote at Shakespeare and Company!), using her positivity and sage outlook to empower me. Turning the corner, I was expecting to see his mother sweeping the sidewalk with a cigarette in her hand, his brother loading boxes of fresh produce into the restaurant from his double-parked car, and MF also smoking, pulling the tables out onto the terrace, and complaining as usual. But we didn't see that. We saw a new wine shop in its place. Convenient and with what seemed to offer a fine selection, but not at all what I was expecting to see.
I know I'm not supposed to have any feelings about this as I truly have moved on, but I felt an overwhelming urge to cry. This turn of events only solidifies the fact, that that life really is over. I can not only hear the page turning but hear the book ferociously slam shut.
Having Mary-Kay there helped hold back that sadness, those tears that wanted to flood out, but I constrained myself. Because come on, there's nothing worse than having to console someone you barely know about something you have no attachment to (deaths excluded), so I stopped myself from producing an inappropriate moment on the streets of Paris. Although it would have been quite cinematic.
So it's official. He really did leave the Marais. Which means one thing..
I can take it back!!
After lunch at my favorite dive, Le Saint Gervais, MK and I parted ways and I officially welcomed myself back to the Marais. Weaving in and out of streets, peaking my head in galleries, and snapping photos, felt absolutely liberating.
Where is he now? Who knows. Probably off torturing some other girl. But what I do know, is that I am now able to create new memories with new friends, or even stroll alone through one of Paris' most celebrated quartiers. I'm free.
On this cloudy afternoon, here are some things that caught my eye....
Plastic Bag Art Claire Morgan Exhibit
"Quietus"
A La Galerie Karsten Greve
Really quick!
What is this?
If you guessed a giant wishing flower stuffed with bumble bees...
well then you're more talented than me!
And why not?
A carcus floating in cellophane.
This store was great.
Although I was a bit overwhelmed by their collection.
The choices!
Choices...
Klmnop.
What a great name for a Kraftwerk Cover band.
Is it just me?
And finally my favorite moment....I put my headphones on to listen to these curators where one said: "The objects were dematerializing but at the same time, keeping their objectivity with the idea of sight which as of late has become problematic"
I'm sorry but what the hell does that mean? Like I said in my last art post, I'm so not arty. I'm too goofy. And I try to sound cool by mumbling juxtaposition under my breath, even when it doesn't make sense.
Juxtaposition...
