You always sprayed a whif of Sweet Peas onto your wrists when you got into the car. It came from a porcelain sprayer, with a golden cap. When I was very little, I always imagined the Sweet Pea smell to fly over your seat onto me. I was scared that I would be called names for smelling like Sweet Peas. But I never did get called Sweet Pea. When we secretely went to Kentucky Fried Chicken on Thursday afternoons, after piano lessons, you used to spray the Sweet Peas when we got out of the car, so…
Work, album created on December 29, 2010
5 items in total.
Summer 2010, album created on December 29, 2010
18 items in total.
Paris - March 2010, album created on March 8, 2010
16 items in total.
May 29, 2010My building smells of fresh baked bread every morning. I always think I should have breakfast more often. When I go down the stairs from the top floor, I smell the bread, think of breakfast and count the stairs. If you would ask me to tell you how many there are I would not be able to tell you. It's a habit. Counting stairs, lines on the road, birds flying by. Joggers on the other side of the road. Cigarette butts in the ashtray. It started out as an educational excursive. Years ago I…
March 8, 2010I did not tell you the truth. I hated Paris - each single time I went there it ended up in me feeling only as Paris can make one feel. Half human, half idiot. Only half human because you need to be able to speak French to be fully human. It impresses the dates you have in Hollywood movies. It shows you belong to a certain corpe diplomatique and that I can understand the paper that is folded into my usual paper on Thursdays. Only in French is it possible to fully understand the consequenc…