Archives d’auteur : Stina

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.

David

One, two, three glasses of red wine as I sat alone and listened to the jazz band. It was a warm, October afternoon. Four glasses of red wine. Well, you know what’s next. A cigarette. But I don’t smoke in … Lire la suite

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While you were sleeping…

On the verge of selling my car almost four years ago, I said to myself: « You won’t be able to act like a little asshole anymore. » No more late nights, no more sleeping in until the very, very last minute, … Lire la suite

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Swim to shore

I have written before about my absolute frustration, my maddening disbelief, at people who do not allow lows. I am currently reading Hammerklavier, a novel from Yasmina Reza. It is a somber but refreshing book about death, in all its … Lire la suite

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Walls become welds

It is my last two days in Paris, the sun is shining, what shall I do before meeting A— at five near Gate de l’Est? I am a bit anxious about meeting her. I have dropped in on some friends … Lire la suite

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Paris, day eight

Le jour de l’an, 2017 No meat, no milk, no eggs. Daily meditation, exercise and water. Lots of water. Lots of breathing, C——–. No more rage. Oh, just let it go, let it all go! Be kind. Be silent. Smile. … Lire la suite

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Paris, jour sept

Le réveillon I awake at six, how splendidly spoiled it feels to nuzzle into the last dusty corners of sleepiness, bundled in big blankets, able to choose more sleep, no alarms, no appointments. After ten, I rise, I shower, I … Lire la suite

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Paris, jour six

Le 30 décembre I was still awake last night when the fog arrived, thick, heavy, low. Like a cashmere blanket, this morning it hovers still. The roofs are powdered with melancholy, the streets are dusty with introspection. I drink my … Lire la suite

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