un année

A year ago we said farewell to our home of two years in Paris, France...

Our time there is more than the vintage tins we picked up and the remnants of cotton and linen I sew with now to sell at markets - it's more than what I found difficult, isolating, foreign - it's more than the tourist destinations, the long lines at banque postale, the extremely afforable butter and the perfect baguette...

and while we didn't live in a glamorous suburb overlooking the river, or regularly sight young ladies on bicycles wearing berets - we did carve out a cosy and nourishing home for our family. we birthed a baby boy, we engaged in meaningful work and learnt enough French to get out of trouble. we ate a lot of wonderful bread and cheese, rabbit terrine and golden quinces - we delighted in our local markets by the train station and took some glorious trips with friends and kin into to the countryside.

Our time at rue Roland Garros is heavy laden with sight, smells and sounds - and it's a part of us, always.