Pressing (Paris Love II)

But the moment I treasure the most happened the next day, spread out on the cool damp grass in le Parc de la Villette. A happen-chance message found us together again on the eve of my departure from Europe. Foreheads and noses touching, muscular thigh pressing into my taught sinews, hand encompassing my slim shoulder in a firm steady grasp. Somewhere on the periphery, traces of … Continue reading Pressing (Paris Love II)

Verdi 2.0

Constantly editing! Verdi I grab my head and the sun squirms like mercurial pulsating orange notes pound erotic love sonnets as it rises I cram my brains against the nebulous purple wall trying to discover the perfect word for an egregious essay the stoical radio crackles into an enigmatic tangles of wires and distant waves fading as a tenor’s voice breaks maudlin on the high … Continue reading Verdi 2.0

Auringonnousu in Oulujärvi (Watching a Sunrise Together, 8 Hours Apart)

Just an unedited online conversation between me and my friend. I loved the fact that quotidian prose can sometimes be so unconsciously poetic: The darkest hour of the day The party is dying… And I’m last one up, listening to ducks on a silent lake Big fish Big fish? Jumped A little bit of mist over the shore line… Looks nice Show me? You can … Continue reading Auringonnousu in Oulujärvi (Watching a Sunrise Together, 8 Hours Apart)

Lady (la deuxième, Lausanne to Paris by train)

Her eyes are as clear blue as the passing sky. I wonder what she’s thinking about and what she’s thought in the decades she’s passed. What does she see in the swiftly rolling hills and pastures? Are they new landscapes for her as well? Or does she know them exactly like she knows her hands: delicate and wrinkled with memories? Lips pressed into a straight, … Continue reading Lady (la deuxième, Lausanne to Paris by train)

Lady (on the way to Lausanne)

I will miss this rolling green countryside, the thrill of climbing on a train, the new discovery every day, the fatigue of cheap lunches and sleepless nights in stranger’s beds. The meeting and sudden parting of ways. On the train to Lausanne I talked to Lady. Her name is the only real information I know about her. Well, other than the fact that she escaped … Continue reading Lady (on the way to Lausanne)

Small glimpses from a quickly passing window seat (Florence – Lausanne by train.)

Newspaper open, he glances up to catch a glimpse of the passing train, sitting in the vibrant green lawn of the pocket-park in this little mountain hamlet. A fresh blue shirt and pair of red suspenders gently frame his rotund face and belly. An attentive terrier follows his gaze, perched a few meters from the dark green park bench. Behind him the mountains interlace in beautiful cardboard … Continue reading Small glimpses from a quickly passing window seat (Florence – Lausanne by train.)

Sauterelles at St André (Somewhere in the Alps of Haute Provence)

Severin and Baptista are already trop classe: Severin with his navy polo, navy sandals, and navy glasses, red accent watch, and little red rosette pinned to his collar, Baptista with his styled fohawk, hot pink t-shirt and jean shorts. He’s the more active of the two, who possess no more than fifteen years between them. We pass half an hour waiting for the train in … Continue reading Sauterelles at St André (Somewhere in the Alps of Haute Provence)

Wrath of Jupiter (Florence)

For Teemu 🙂 Running from the sudden sheets of rain which drop from lowering Florence skies like the unexpected passionate outburst expected of stereotypical Italian men a downpour fit for el verano we round the Palais Pitti and careen into another vendor hawking umbrellas to hapless bareheaded tourists. Shrewd salesmen, they magically surface at the first sign of sprinkles sprouting like mushrooms on the streets. Turn en … Continue reading Wrath of Jupiter (Florence)

Bond (Nice to Florence by Train)

I’m leaving La Region Provence Langue d’Oc-Rousillon with so many good memories. Watching the faded red and gold emblem on the train door slide past for the last time made me so sentimental. It’s the colors of the region that will stay with me forever, long after my sunburned cheeks have healed and my red backpack empties itself of sand and stops smelling of rich musty … Continue reading Bond (Nice to Florence by Train)