- figured out a way to live someplace in France,
- become fluent in French because I would have been living there,
- bought vegetables at a market every other day,
- had the life-transforming experience of living abroad for a whole year,
- received visitors as they came to see me living in France,
- written poetry as gorgeous and ornate as that of the Provencal troubadours.
But I did not win the Amy Lowell Travelling Scholarship. Alas. So instead I will
- live in West Jordan,
- continue to speak English (albeit fluently) and perhaps listen to some French music,
- buy vegetables at the farmer's market and from Chad,
- have the life-transforming experience of writing and making small films every day,
- receive visitors as they venture into the wilds of West Jordan,
- write poetry as gorgeous and plainspoken as that of the . . . what? cowboy poets?
It was a beautiful dream while it lasted.
If I had any money, I'd give it to you so you could live in France. And then, because I have money, I'd move there too and we could eat baguettes and drink red wine together while thinking about goat cheese, mussels perhaps? And growing artichokes. And eating fresh herbs with everything. And walking to the market.
ReplyDeleteIn any case, you can be the traveling poet of Sugarhouse.
And we all know you deserve more than that guy. Whoever he is.
Sad! It is nice to have dreams though, isn't it!!
ReplyDeleteAh, but Chad, he practically French the way he grows those vegetables, no? Oh, how I miss Chad. Possibly more than Paris.
ReplyDeleteNo more excuses. Let us all move to France!
ReplyDelete