…and the wind blows…

so i moved on good friday – i might have mentioned about a dozen times before that indeed i spoke french to my taxi driver. yes i did. i felt accomplished. i also confirmed to current neighbours that „oui, c’est un demenagement”. i had the place to myself all afternoon/evening cause cynthia was at her bf’s, so i unpacked with my music on. sunny, one of the nicest warmest possible early april days that i’ve ever seen. the light pooling into my room. the room is SOO small. my books are on the floor, my papers in one of those multipurpose plastic drawers…clothes on hangers…that’s it. for finishing touches: my personal knife and bottle opener are in the kitchen drawer; i started burning my wax candle (previous tennant was a heavy smoker :)); mmm i tested the sofa. there were church bells ringing, and then in the morning there were cocks crowing and birds trilling.(to this day we haven’t broken the celebration liquor because we don’t have coffee yet. lame, i know.)

yesterday. i did the proper wannabe thing and went walking along mont-royal in the morning. complete with necessary sunglasses, and the jacket on my arm because it was too warm. two girls painting their toenails on a porch. the thrift store across the street aglow with a fully decked christmas tree by the front door, shiny garlands and all. i was smiling dumbly at everything. a little boy walking with his bike between his legs (i told his mum „this is how i ride a bike too” and she laughed – see what i mean?). dog-walking people. boutiques. shoe sales at ‘yellow’. epiceries with strawberry boxes at 99c. i bought coffee and a croissant and ate them in a parklet, on a bench next to a group of very old guys playing cards.

then after noon i went grocery shopping with cynthia so she could show me the neighbourhood stores, and we bought stuff to make salads. stop rolling your eyes, i am pretty proud of „us”. so we sort-of-cooked and talked like crazy for a number of hours. and we ended up calling cyn’s bird leonard. [all your/our previous references come in handy at this point. bird on a wire/parc du portugal/ letter to leonard cohen/it’s 4 in the morning/ remember me? i brought your groceries in….etc.] he (l’oiseau, not l. cohen), altough he’s really really shy, after numerous attempts and cajoling, perched on my finger for like 2 seconds. i know, i’m smug:). then in the evening cyn+me walked a bit along mt-royal then st laurent, all dressed up. i put a long skirt on, because it was windy. and my heels – ouch. (i have a minor blister, but i seriously need flat spring shoes) and we ended up in a bar for a bit, just „visiting” cyn’s bf and his friend. that was about it : home by midnight, and i sneaked onto the balcony to light a candle and sing „christos a inviat” in a very tiny voice.

after that, until about 3.30 when i finally fell asleep…the wind blew. i listened to it, wrapped in my blanket, in the otherwise peace and quiet of my little place. it was unlike any nighttime wind i’d heard before, breaking on the walls, over the interior yard, strong, furious, rough, musical, pause and start again. the balcony door whinged open. the semi-opened window in the livingroom hissed. so close and exposed. i went to shut everything off, and back to listen. i assumed this can’t be a singular occurence. i thought „i’ll have to learn to sleep through this kind of wind.” – then immediately „i’ll have to learn to love this”. which is so wonderfully paradoxical that it startled me awake even more. how do you reconcile getting used/taking for granted…with ‘growing to love’. i used to think of love as continuous awakenness, and maybe that was the problem…too much drama, as various people who know me can testify.

so the wind did its thing, and i heard it, was duly impressed, managed to make it all about myself, then i fell asleep. happy easter everyone.

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