(no subject)

[cibeles]

just letting you all know that i am not dead. telling you that 75 isn't just pareeee, isn't just the tour eiffel, the museums, the religious experience that is the musée de l'orangerie, the moulin rouge, or the view from the basilique du sacré-coeur. 75 isn't the flood of tourists on the champs-élysées, or the whiff of handrolled god knows what on the rue de rivoli as you race to make it to the other side of the street before the bentley crushes you. it isn't ice creams and stuck out tongues as you pass chez mr carla, or bitter dark hediard chocolate on the bus, raised voices, kabyle swearwords. it isn't the strange sound of italian tourists mingling with chinese multimillionaires, and the voice of my aunt, arabic-french-arabic-french, and it isn't even the tiny typical bistrots, or seeing my father for the first time since august. it's just nothing, and everything, the amazing strange nothing of rain on the rue du faubourg saint-honoré, or perhaps it's overpriced popcorn and worn out shoes, mocking the middle aged midwestern american accents as i pass them in the jardin des tuileries. it's being together as a family, weird jokes from gambia, the cousins i never see, my 90 year old grandmother who wants nothing more in the world than to watch football and make other people eat. lukewarm hamoud. pipedreams of buying my father an apartment in neuilly, doing my prépa here. everybody is so proud of me, and i'm afraid of the future.

love and kisses from you know where.

if anything important happens y'all let me know.

~~anissa