Today, I booked a flight to a place I haven’t been in a year. But even with my eyes closed, I would still be able to ride my bike to the little fortress by the marais [marsh].
With the sound of the wind through the wheels as the only music, and the smell of the ocean écume [froth] as the only perfume.
And I can’t wait to spend time with my grand-mère. Taking care of eachother, sharing secrets and recipes.
In fact, I’ve been looking at pictures from a season I thought I’d rather forget. With a smile on my face.