[Hello April]
The not-so-official April day-dream list.
I want café frappés, the best euphemism of a kind that involves milkshakes for breakfast. I want to wear a sequin top and leopard ballerines from dawn till the next.
Don't you love bonjour ?
Bonjour mars
[Hello March]
Right now, there is a snowstorm happening behind my window. Not unlike London turned into a snow-dome. I used to love them. And really, not much has changed since.
But if there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that by the end of the month, trees will be coated in a snow of blossoms.
Goodbye, hello
I didn’t take enough pictures. At least not with my favourite camera. In fact, I think I had forgotten how to see the beauty in the unexpected. Some things can’t be forgotten, they say.
Bonjour octobre
[Hello October]
Some may wonder what the point is really, to say hello when it’s almost time for goodbyes.
Well, let me tell you a story. Or more accurately the end of it.
Bonjour septembre
[Hello September]
I’ve been falling asleep to bigger-than-life fairy-lights; of the skyscraper kind. I’ve been talking too loud. And I’ve French-kissed, at times with a reason, most of the time without.
Bonjour juillet
[Hello July]
It’s raining. And somehow, we’re once again having winter in July. It seems to be a standard these days. And really, I could just write a letter to July.
Bonjour juin
[Hello June]
May has been a little crazy. Of the runs in the park slash flight to France slash rosé et mauresque with Anna-Sarah (every single night) slash book writing slash turning my kitchen into a mess to the point of no return slash painting on porcelain plates kind.
Bonjour avril
[Hello April]
My weeks have been made of Sundays lately. And it really feels like walking with my eyes closed and crossing my fingers at every step I take.
Not unlike getting lost.
Bonjour mars, au revoir mars
[Hello March, goodbye March]
I’ve felt raindrops running through my hair; and my dress too. I’ve made a cake. And another one too.
I’ve seen blossoms on every tree. I’ve walked in empty avenues, with my eyes closed and his hand on mine.
Bonjour février
[Hello February]
It seems like those winter days I longed so much for have finally decided to pop by. Yes, it was cold today. Of the frostbites and hot chocolates kind.
I opened the door to a package made of Impossible film.
Goodbye, hello
I walked along the Thames. On the very firt morning of 2011. And saw a balloon floating along. And a French bakery.
I drank lattes. Waiting for them to cool down, with the wind and cold.
Bonjour décembre
[Hello December]
December is made for kissing in the mist, warm nights of magic rush and cold pink dawn, foreseen epiphanies, and perhaps, most importantly, mulled wine.
A short welcome to this new month, because – believe me or not – some things are better left unsaid.
Bonjour novembre
[Hello November]
Is it just me, or do you also feel like that – more than any other month – tarts belong to November?
It usually happens without a warning. And without a calendar.
Bonjour octobre
[Hello October]
Hello, it’s 32°C out there.
This morning I went swimming. One last time before the French holidays come to an end.
Oh, this past month has been great. I’ve been enjoying the summer I never got this summer.
Bonjour septembre
[Hello September]
I am away from London for a month. Yes and whole entire month.
And as I was landing at the smallest airport I have ever seen (so small I couldn’t help but take pictures of the very vintage aérogare straight from the plane tiny window*), I knew I would miss that city which has not-so slowly grown on me**.
Bonjour août
[Hello August]
July felt like a summer storm. Of the quick, unexpected kind.
It was beautiful. And much unlike any other July that has crossed my path. The rain, the cold, the golden leaves covering the pavement.
Bonjour juillet
[Hello July]
The first night of July smelled like freshly-cut grass. We could hear planes over our heads and, at that exact moment, it reminded me the evening we spent sat on the sidewalk by the motorway.
Bonjour juin
[Hello June]
More than ever, this year, june feels like a new start. A kiss goodbye under the rain. Metaphorically and literally.
Also the first time I won’t be able to wish my grand-father his birthday.
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