Roi d'Étre et de Néant

I don't think last week actually happened, maybe I was dreaming. No way that I was in Paris. I have pictures. I have euros. I have other things as proof, but I can't believe it. I wasn't there...je n'ai pas été.... I don't think people understand why that was so monumental, I don't think anyone can. It felt like all this time I've been missing my heart and I've known where to go but couldn't. Then, there. No more thoughts of disaster or sabotage, just there. What else? There's nothing but being, just being and it's overwhelming. I didn't think that a week could change me so much, but now I know Paris and other things have that kind of power. I've never felt so completely at home anywhere or with anyone in my life than when I was in France. I belong there and I will forever be grateful.

Ode à Cassandre

Pierre Ronsard

Mignonne, allons voir si la rose
Qui ce matin avait déclose
Sa robe de pourpre au soleil,
A point perdu cette vesprée
Les plis de sa robe pourprée,
Et son teint au vôtre pareil.

Las ! voyez comme en peu d'espace,
Mignonne, elle a dessus la place,
Las, las ses beautés laissé choir !
O vraiment marâtre nature,
Puisqu'une telle fleur ne dure
Que du matin jusques au soir !

Donc, si vous me croyez, mignonne,
Tandis que votre âge fleuronne
En sa plus verte nouveauté,
Cueillez, cueillez votre jeunesse :
Comme à cette fleur, la vieillesse
Fera ternir votre beauté.