Drafted in the deepest holes of my subconscious, I sketch the plan…
Brittle and impetuous, lines and dots connect –
Tempting the inner genius, satisfying the inner shit.
A soul dreams in hopelessness.
– Amanda Lehman-Choi
First off, he says, the Parisienne is never satisfied. Here’s proof: I’m telling you how gorgeous you are and it’s never enough.
The Parisienne thinks she’s a role model. She can fill blogs and books with life advice. In fact, she loves being asked what she thinks And of course that makes sense because she’s already done everything. Seen everything. She knows it all.
She’s outspoken and can swear like a sailor. She’s horrified when people politely say “Bon appetit!: Poor taste is worse than poor diplomacy.
In a nutshell (and, trust me, I know her well), I’d say the Parisienne is completely cuckoo!
Yes, the Parisienne often comes from somewhere else. She wasn’t born in Paris, but she’s reborn there.
She’s Parisian, which is to say she’s melancholy. Her mood responds to the changing colors of her city. She can feel a sudden surge of sorrow or even hope for no reason at all. In the blink of an eye, all those lost memories and smells come flooding back, reminding her of loved ones who are no longer there. And time passing by.
When she’s walking out for good and slams the door behind her to show she means business, and then realizes she has no idea where to go.
* She’s capable of moving mountains but is in constant need of reassurance.
Anne Berest, Audrey Diwan, Caroline De Maigreat, Sophie Mas