how i enjoy these days of doing nothing. being home, being right here. walking through these 4 rooms. roaming the garden. i can sit at one of my desks, by one of my windows, and busy myself with sorting paper, rummaging through old stamps, opening and shutting these metal boxes that are now home to my waxed linen, labels, some mailart rubberstamps.
i’ve developed a serious interest in mailart. a renewal in my interest of all things postal. dormant for so long now it’s roaring back to life.
with my machine still out on one of my desks it’s easy to stitch paper whenever i feel like it. and today i felt like it!
some outgoing mail…
this afternoon i started wondering whatever happened to my old 2005 paris travel journal. a dig through the bookcases and it is uncovered!
how good to read these long ago stories. i was facetiming with sister this afternoon and reading her some of the entries and we had some good laughs. neither of us remembered getting the special tour from the madame in the castle. we did remember letting ourselves in this massive side door that was closed but not locked. oh the thrill of excitement as we stole up the stairs!
the sketches have a crudeness to them, but the words i scrawled next to them bring everything ALIVE. i am right there by the window with the rain beating wildly against it. sitting on the damp stone wall in the freezing wind.
i remember nights at the big wooden table in the kitchen in the apartment under the eaves. 101 steps to the top. writing with an atlas next to me obsessively retracing our tracks down so many little roads. so glad i did that now!
i remember carefully putting in all of the dates using photos & dymo labels before leaving LA.
our madame spoke no english and we spoke only 3-5 words of french. somehow we understood everything. or thought we did!
oh and i found this postcard while i was rummaging through my paper.
we never know in whose house or hand our writing will one day land do we? impossible to know.
“hello dearie”, she wrote.
hello mother, say i. got your postcard. i know it was meant for geralda, but i got it too. 103 years after you wrote it. just wanted you to know. hope you’re feeling better.