Jour d’or

Shhhh. Do you hear that? Exactly. Me, neither. It’s Sunday morning. And though the clocks went ahead one hour at some point during my deep, happy sleep (yes I’m quite sure there was a smile on my face all night long as I cozied and cuddled in the warm hug of my bed and blanket), my body’s internal clock has responded in turn and I am fully awake in the usual sixth hour natural weekend wake-up time. I have no Airbnb guests to tip toe around, no work to report to for another eight days, no pressing errands, no great worries in life in general. It’s six twenty in the serene, silent morning. A time of day I adore.

Pause. Appreciate. Look into the dark sky. The orange outline of the distant skyscrapers as the sun begins its ascent into the black winter sky. Like time is standing still for a moment. French pop hits from the 60’s play at very low volume in the background like a comforting protection from loneliness (God bless Songza). Smile. This is nice, isn’t it?

Yesterday was day one of a nine-day-long March break. It started off beautifully. After a very long winter, the coldest in twenty years here in Toronto, I awoke, at that same calm and quiet early hour, to plus two degree temperature. Off I went for my first outdoor run of the year. I ran fifteen kilometers and felt like queen of the universe. I was showered and out of the house again before ten.

A lovely luncheon at The Village Idiot at Dundas and McCaul. A cheeseburger sans bun and the soup of the day, beef barley. And a glass of red. Why not? The burger was a bit hockey puckish but this is no time for complaining. A second glass of wine with my current book “Les lois de la gravité” by Jean Teulé.

Pause. Appreciate. Look at the people.

Then it was off to the AGO for a film and some art. Twelve twenty-three in the early, sunny afternoon. The film starts every hour on the hour. How to pass half an hour? Café AGO, three truffles, one very over-poured glass of red. “You don’t have to finish it.” The baby-faced bartender said. Ha.

Funny.

The film was good (see post “Easy Breathing”). A nice man, with a heavy Scottish accent, even struck up a bit of conversation with me during the film. I always find it refreshing when we humans aren’t afraid of each other and actually talk to one another.

Lovely.

Then it was off to HMV at busy Yonge and Dundas to their delicious “World” section which I peruse about once a month, looking for French films to take home and watch over and over, with French sub-titles, on my never-ending quest to learn and improve my level of French. I bought not one but six. Like the lunch and the daytime wine, this is a vacation, after all.

Today is a day of decadence.

Home by fivish. What a rich day. I popped in Luis Buñuel’s and Salvador Dali’s controversial 1930’s film “L’âge d’or,” one of my purchases from the day. A sixty-three-minute mostly silent black and white film. Very interesting.

Pause. Digest. Reflect. Watch again. And this is how I fell asleep at the end of my first of nine days off for March Break. A day of culture, a bit of indulgence, peace, and pause. A day for me.

Nine oh three now. The sun has finally climbed higher than the buildings, seeking me out, finding me, I wanted to be found, shining just for me, calling me. Me. The happily obliging child, tagged by its rays in this, Mother Nature’s game of hide and seek. My turn. I’m it. What will I do? Where will I go? What will I, in turn, seek, and touch? Or, whom?

Shhhh. Do you hear that? Keep listening. The day is coming. Life is happening.

Pause. Appreciate. Look into the bright sky. This day is mine, all mine. Not all mine. Yours, too. Time has begun to tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. What will today bring? What will I bring to today? Smile. Feel the sun on your face.

This is nice, isn’t it?

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À propos de Stina

If I could tell you about me in a neat and tidy definitive statement, I don't think I'd be writing this blog.
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