What I soon came to see on this trip is that while I had obviously in the span of my life collected far too many clothes and shoes and the like, I would never be a girl who could have enough remedies for whatever ails you. In France, I filled my suitcase with the things I live in and nothing more. Anything that had not served a purpose for over six months would be immediately donated to charity on my return to the states; a promise I have kept, as on return, I emptied my closet of pretty much everything and the drawers, and filled them, half full now, with only French tank tops and country skirts, three pair of shoes that are all pretty much the same, and all French lingerie because it is just better and prettier and why the hell should I wear some jockey for women stuff when I want to feel good about myself. Everyone is different, but underneath my chinos and tank tops, I have come to discover that I'm a real tart in many ways; nothing tacky, but lots of white lacy things that would make many women nauseated but that make me happy. I also discovered that I can never have enough perfumes that smell like Tar tine et Chocolate, sweet and tart and smelling like a baby's head.

Every day, we found a local café, ate crepes with butter and sugar from the local stand, ate salads that were filling and fresh and still tasted of the earth (in France, the produce still comes with dirt attached; it was less cleansed than American produce and I liked that I could still taste the earth; call it eating dirt if you want, but it was damn good.).

We had the requisite deux demi every afternoon, the two half beers that keep the blood warm, and believe me, Autumn had arrived in France. The air was crisp and cool and most days, threatened rain and even dropped a few drops though nothing torrential. It was gentle weather. the kind that has you reaching for a jacket or sweater, but later on leaves you easily warm in a tank top and scarf. I sat writing all over Paris, taking notes about the people, the food, how I felt, and writing what I would say were the best poems I had written to date. which is not to say that they are by all accounts good, they may be awful, but I found the work that I have been searching for for so very long; I found my subject and my voice (I hate that word but there you have it) and I found that that voice is clean, and in poetry, economical, and while it could be nostalgic, it was never sentimental or weak or weepy. Behind every poem the voice was that of a strong person who could feel deeply but who could also will herself not to feel at all should it be necessary.