Isn't it funny how our oh-so carefully constructed worlds can fall apart in a day? Luckily, I am just talking about an apartment and nothing worse but still couldn't help but smirk over all of the times that I moved a statue two millimetres to the left or right while looking at this mess. Today was my first day doing boxes and I am proud to say that I did all that you see and then some. My oh, we do have things. Some, like Remi's slides, are a living testament (literally, for if you don't know, film is actually alive, I love that) to our world and how it is changing on several levels. As are we. Remi woke me at 7am yesterday so that we could take over our best paintings and such to the new apartment before the traffic restrictions in the Centre Historique hit. How interesting that so many of our pieces don't interest me in the slightest anymore. They were for another us, somewhere else.
I am on the fence with some of my books. It is a luxury to keep them, trophy-like, on a shelf. But I am not sure that someone as nomadic as myself has the right to hoard so many words. And the clothing, the highest heels of another life altogether? Well, I guess I am not entirely ready to let go of that alter-ego just yet.
At one moment when my muscles were screaming so that I had to take a break over a glass of water in the kitchen, I spied a green dragonfly perched on the windowsill. Remi believes these crystalline creatures are the harbingers of good luck and so now I take it so. Surtout because at that moment, my random itunes was blaring the famous duet from Delibe's Lakmé. Something so gorgeous in the midst of such chaos and yes, I'll take all of the encouragement that I can these days. Frankly, I am just grateful to not be at the new apartment, where we have been painting/cleaning until 10pm every night this week.
My heart has been on a bit of a roller coaster. Do all Leos hate moving as much as I do or is it just because of the frequent changes of my childhood? As often as I have done this (I now consider myself to be a master packer), a part of me is deeply disconcerted. And yet it is just another address two streets over and not an entirely new life. How odd I am and how important it is to turn towards the new--how fortunate to even have the occasion. Of course, I know that. But for the moment, it is just the prospect of getting to decorate that is getting me through! I am deeply, profoundly tired but still looking forward to what could be. Hope swooping in, making a dramatic save once again.