I feel that every morning when I wake up, right outside the window pane a new city wakes up for me, willing to confess me its secrets. Even if, the true fact is, that every morning in a room that has a Zara’s pareo as a curtain, I wake up in the city that never sleeps, the only one which disarms me. We’re talking about Lou. We’re talking about London. We’re talking about natural scepticism and pretended faith.
London and its jobless sun. London and its philosophy about watering people to make them grow that tall. London and its LOOK RIGHT and LOOK LEFT that I always forget to look at. London is the choice I made one month ago. I thought I would improve my English, learn proper manners and be wondered at London’s paradoxes: sobriety and eccentricity, Burberry and Indian food, foreigners and natives, beautiful hieratical faces and those proud and gloomy buildings. This city is my Balmain. Balmain noun for the contrast and rapport between elegant and bizarre, classic and trend-setting, the paradox that hooks us, wins our hearts and delights us.
I don’t believe in random events not even in coincidences. I am here as the consequence of my lazy escape in disguise, pretending to be great. Failing resoundingly. It was a: lets call “improve my English” to hide somewhere I could keep the few neurons I still have busy and excited just to avoid discovering that I have lost the North, the recipe to laugh everyday, and the willing to figure out what’s beyond the ocean. I left my faded shoes, vanilla and cherry bloom times, and that goodbye I never knew how to say in Argentina. After one year planting the seeds of my happiness, I flew back home, leaving it all behind. The point is that it didn’t work. I couldn’t keep my thoughts away from those memories, even in the city of my heart. But what I’ve actually achieved is to murder my Miss Independent reputation, I worked so hard to can get it and, in a blink of an eye, its gone. Its bizarre how life changes, where it was an independent woman, now there is a lazy cat moaning about loneliness and frozen food. Good job Lou!
Who knows why Miss Fate wanted to see me like this, I just can’t get it, even if I want to believe that it must be a reason for all this. While I try to figure it out, with the apples in the kitchen and roses in the garden I will have to find the way of having a Balmain life.
APPLES&ROSES 