Monday, January 28, 2008
we were looking for a place to rent, in the center of town, close to the Louvre where I could walk easily to help Anselm finish his monumental piece commissioned by the Art program that I belonged to. I always wanted to be part of something that would endure, where generations of chocolate-mustached school children would have to stop in a group in front of the speared man, and a teacher would drone endlessly while the little girl in the back would by accident, lick the corner of her mouth, and discovers the crusted bits that she would promptly lick, both in shame and pleasure. So our new place was going to be both a lovers' nest and a work space: big white bed on a platform, Japanese style, and some painting tubes in a wood box.The view, minimal, but if you jutted your head out, you could see a triangle of the river, grey green, with little crests. The kitchen was a simple temple devoted to the art of food.Small appliances, but a fair enough pantry, with holes to the outside, so you could keep your wines always at the ready, and your chocolate truffles fresh. C.D was exploring the neighborhood that day, when he noticed in the window of this expensive shop, the perfect gift for our first night in the apartment. A little celebration of sort.
When I opened the box, he asked if I could be his Cinderella and try on the shoe to see if it fits.It did, I put both on and took a pose a la Chanel ,legs crossed, dangling from the bed, head on a billowy pillow.After biting the area of the big toe off, the chocolate shoe began to melt, C.D continue to break pieces, cleaning the mess between the toes with the corner of the linen
comforter.With my feet licked clean, I was ready to move in for good.