The paintings or A long goodbye

There she was! Back in this magical city! “ Oh how I’ve missed the flair of Paris!” she squeaked full of excitement. She took a deep breath to soak it all in, these feelings of blossoming joy and mysterious inspiration. How many times she had been visiting! Always stunned by the unique architecture. Intrigued by the culture, the famous sometimes not so charming charm of the Parisians, mesmerized by the casual experiences on ordinary days. Simply enjoying the local wine, the music, the food. Diving head first into the miraculous life the city offered, walking along the Seine or sitting down for a coffee somewhere in a hidden corner of the Marais. Never failed to be inspired. This city was fueling her most prominent passion. Writing.

It was a beautiful spring morning, just about to reach the 20 degrees Celsius and she walked down the street along the Canal Saint-Martine. She couldn’t get it out of her head. The last time she had been to Paris. It’s been years ago, pre pandemic when the world had no idea yet what was awaiting it. She could sense the crystal clear memories chasing her. The paintings, the love, the sadness, the heartbreak, the grief. But most of all, the anticipation of the last miles of what’s best described as a long goodbye. She stopped and looked into the water, noticed her own reflection. “How weird I look with the new hairstyle”, she thought. “Bizarre really. But also beautiful. In an abstract way I guess.”

She heard a familiar melody playing in her head and she pondered on long goodbyes for a while before continuing her stroll along the canal. A feeling of pride and appreciation surfaced eventually when she thought about how far she had come since her last visit. She had left feeling like she was drowning in an ocean of tears back then. Now she could honestly say that she felt no more pain, no regrets. Just acceptance and kind observations about her years long bumpy journey towards finding herself and coming closer to peace.

After a short walk warmed by the gorgeous spring sun she arrived at the lunchroom which served a large selection of healthy choices, many of them raw vegan meals.

She chose the special of the day and sat down on a table right along the window with a perfect view on the pedestrian zone outside the lunch café. Over time she acknowledged to herself that she’d always secretly loved being out by herself. Observing strangers passing by in a hurry, chatting on the streets or sitting down in the restaurants and cafes nearby. She just wanted to take it all in. The surroundings which inspired her mind to go on adventures, triggered it to create stories around the people she noticed and the things she saw.

“ I wonder why he looks so sad,” she thought when she gazed at a guy standing outside the small bistro opposite the lunchroom. It was a guy wearing a shirt and a fine suit, likely in his mid or late forties. “Smartly dressed, like most French men.” she thought. His jaw clenched, his eyes were trying to stop tears from falling but they still spoke volumes about his emotional state. He kept stepping nervously from one leg onto the other while her mind was busy trying to figure out a plausible story of what might have happened in his life on that particular day.

“Mmmmh! This wine is just perfect for lunch and the occasion”, she thought after the waitress had brought her carafe of wine and her raw food bowl. She soon found herself deeply immersed in thoughts about her own stories.

“Lost love. Impossible love. Unrequited love. Forbidden love. Self-love. Unconditional love. Platonic love. Romantic love. Growing deep love that needs nurturing or love at first sight that just hits you in an instant. This list is possibly endless”, she thought sensing a familiar heaviness in her chest.

“I might have experienced them all. Or none of them really. After all, who could tell? Who could possibly reliably and objectively judge the meaning and the value of these feelings. They are feelings after all. And by nature not to be explained or defined in a consistent way.” She thought while taking a big sip of her Chardonnay followed by an intense sigh as if it would help to let go of the confusing and unpleasant thoughts in her mind. It was a sigh of surrender. Surrender to life and its undeniable unpredictability. To its complexity, its simplicity if one chooses to keep things simple. Its tremendous hardship and its ecstatic moments of intense happiness. “Would we have made it if we could have kept things simple? Would there have been a path to happiness?” she pondered.

Without a warning a grey cat jumped on the seat next to her as if it intended to join her for lunch, dreaming away and getting lost in thoughts while looking outside the window.

“What a beautiful creature you are!”, she said while she petted her newly found companion. The cat started purring softly and kept observing the happenings outside the café. She noticed that the guy in the suit was outside once again. This time together with another man in an equally neat suit. They both looked like they were in pain. Empty and emotionally drained somehow. Like all there ever was to say between them had already been said but neither of them could bring themselves to take the first step and leave.

“Another long goodbye”, she thought feeling an intense sting in her heart. Her sadness wasn’t triggered by all the memories she had made here in the city of love though. It had its roots in a more recent goodbye. A quick and completely unexpected parting of ways which had felt nothing short of gut wrenching for her. ”Likely due to its surprising nature”, she thought.

After she had left the lunch café she headed towards Gard du Nord to catch her train to a small village around 45 minutes North of Paris. She was supposed to pick up a special order from an art gallery there. On the train she dozed off for a little while but was soon awakened rudely by a haunting scream. A young woman dressed in what seemed to be a night gown and not wearing any shoes was stumbling through the coach while screaming. “I caaaaaan’t! I caaaaaaaan’t! Nooooooo! I can’t live like this anymore!” , the woman yelled in despair and started pulling her hair with brutal force as if it could provide some relief to her obvious pain. A fellow passenger and the conductor tried to calm down the lady in white but with little success.

Still trying to make sense of what she had just observed she got off the train at her stop and she started walking the main road that would lead towards the center of the village where the gallery was situated. The young woman reminded her of a dear friend. Another recent painful goodbye in her life.

“Salut Pierre, comment ça va?!” she greeted the artist while kissing him on both cheeks. ” Salut Brigitte! Quel plaisir de te revoir”, Pierre responded enthusiastically. He was in a hurry as the small gallery was buzzing that afternoon. It was full of people discussing the latest artwork showcased with excitement.

On that day she didn’t know anyone there but she had been visiting countless of the artists’ exhibitions prior to the pandemic so she effortlessly found her way and she enjoyed having a dialog about the paintings and sculptures with herself. Silently in her mind. While sipping on a glass of champagne she immersed herself into the world of the paintings, studied every line, every color, every shape. She even noticed the things that weren’t actually there with equal precision. Each detail not quite meaning the same when looked at individually as when they were all brought together in a stunning creation. Many of these paintings had the ability to take her breath away and leave her speechless with an overwhelming feeling of inspiration but also a deep sense of humility. It reminded her of how she felt when experiencing nature in all its miraculous beauty. Watching magic of a sun rise early in the morning or seeing it taking its last breaths before disappearing the sea were amongst her favorite moments in life. There weren’t many things that could compare she felt.

Pierre and his wife finally returned with her order and a photo book he had compiled of his recent work. It was the first time she would see her new painting as all she had given with her request some months ago was direction with regards to colors. She stared at it in disbelief and her hand subconsciously let go of the champagne glass so it fell on the floor creating a loud noise. Pierre quickly walked away to get a broom while she was still in disbelief of what her eyes were seeing. “That’s impossible” she whispered and closed her eyes quickly. She opened them again but the painting hadn’t changed. It was a spitting image of the last sunset picture she had taken a few months ago. In an abstract way and obviously interpreted by the artist but she was certain of the resemblance and what it would mean for her consequently.

“Seems like I am in for yet another long goodbye”, she thought and she left the gallery with a single lonely tear rolling down her cheek. For the first time in a long while not knowing where her journey would take her next.