Two young ladies were born on opposite sides of one country just less than 9 months apart from one another in the year of nineteen hundred and seventy two.
Circumstance threw them together, and the day they met one young lady was welcomed to the other's couch in her studio apartment where she stayed for several months.
This began a great friendship lasting many years to the present, despite the fact that the two ladies never lived in the same city again. Neither of the young ladies knew what they wanted to be when they grew up, or in fact whether they wanted to grow up at all.
They lamented over this dilemma together over the years. They decided one afternoon that if it wasn't sorted out by a specified age they would move together to France and make their living selling handmade postcards on the street in Paris. No longer a country, but an ocean now separates them.
Neither can remember the specified age of their youthful agreement. It may have come and gone, but the friendship and dialogue certainly continues. Perhaps without realizing it, Alan Ginsburg captured the sentiment they were holding in their hearts and imaginations: "You can't escape the past in Paris, and yet what's so wonderful about it is that the past and present intermingle so intangibly that it doesn't seem to burden."
Clothes on the airer in the conservatory. Not very exciting, but hey, it's life isn't it?
2 comments:
i like the british-isms "airer" and "conservatory"
Oh dear, didn't realize I was doing that!
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