My Forever Dream
August 06, 2012
One of my forever dreams has been to live in France for one to two months at a time each year. I focus on this dream and can picture an apartment in Saint-Germain located in the 6th arrondissement in Paris. It’s a two bedroom apartment (for surely I would have company come visit), on the fifth floor, with windows that reach floor to ceiling, their wide trim scratched and dented, the white wash showing off the years just the way one would expect.
The windows are unlatched; the small balcony trimmed with a wrought iron rail opens to the Parisian streets below. The writing desk, a warm Cherry wood circ 1920 with two sets of drawers on either side, sits angled to the right of the window. I imagine the owners of the apartment picked it up for a song at the Sunday market just two streets over.
Long, gauzy curtains, their colour a faded antique white, billow towards me following the breeze into the room. The bottom of the curtains reach for my bare ankles, tickling the edges of my toes as I sit at the desk. I have my lap top open; my notes piled haphazardly on each side.
My focus wavers as I squint at the price tag (damn reality check!)…hmmm…$3200Cdn a week…on a writer’s budget, a presently unpublished writer’s budget, that will not work.
I shall have to daydream outside the city. Let me see….Ahh, there it is!…less than six hours via train from Paris, moving in to the southern region of Languedoc-Roussillon. It’s a forty-five minute drive from the medieval city of Carcassonne the setting for Labyrinth by Kate Mosse, close to the spa village Rennes les Baines where Sepulchre, Kate’s subsequent novel reigned.
The price is workable, around 600.00 Euros per month for a one bedroom plus library. There in this country setting, my husband Den and I will practice our French on the hopefully patient locals. The view from the window is spectacular! I can see my words multiplying there, falling like rain; they will drop to the pages soaked with my thoughts.
Yes, I like it!…that will work.
I think I shall hang on to this dream, expand it, pulling it here and there, until it starts to take shape and approaches my own reality. It cannot be too far off, as I can already smell the mimosa in the breeze as I open the window.