Whilst standing back from the crowd admiriing one beautiful painting in particular, I couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversations no matter how hard I tried not to.. of course how could I not.
"Ughh, what was the artist thinking?" The gentleman's wife shook her head and moved toward the next painting, followed closely behind by her husband still muttering under his breath. Over in the corner two women were admiring a rather striking painting of the Eiffel Tower and a lovely scene of Venice, debating back and forth about which would be the more romantic of the two for an anniversary trip.
Closing my eyes briefly in an attempt to block them out I move silently onto the next piece which is both captivating yet terribly distrubing and I find myself thinking the same thing...'What on earth was he thinking'. The subtle clicking of heels on the parquetry floor distracts me momentarily when I realise the women are heading towards me and one of the women has a loose heel, not loose enough for her to even realise yet I'm sure, but it was there, the unmistable sound of a heel working its way loose. As I wandered further down the gallery I hoped she wouldn't sprain her ankle when the inevitable happened, depending on when her anniversary was it would be a shame for it to be ruined by injury. The faint aroma of paint & turpentine lingered in the air as I studied a beautiful landscape filled with wildflowers.... "incredible", I breathed.
The women were still in deep conversation as they slowly made their way past me but I was no longer listening, I was far away in a different time & place, Eleazar and I were in the South of France, temporarily swapping the lights of Paris for the countryside in order to hunt. At first I missed the hum of the city, but how could you not fall in love with the countryside with its farms and orchards, it reminded me a little of my childhood home.... somewhere I hadn't thought of really since meeting Eleazar. For a few precious days I was able to recall those memories for no other reason than to remember and smile.
Over the last century we have spent many wonderful years in Paris. From the first time we snuck to the top of the Eiffel Tower long after dark to sit and watch the city under an array of twinkling lights, to walking hand in hand along the many miles of The Seine. I had forgotten about the rest of the gallery and had made my way over to the painting of the Eiffel Tower. Gertrude Stein once said, "Amercia is my country and Paris is my hometown", "So very true" I whispered, besides my undying love for Vienna, Paris would always hold a special place in my heart and thought of as home. I was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sense of homesickness and with only the perfect timing that my husband posses, my cell alerted me to a text, "I miss you" smiling as I text back, "I miss you too mi amor, meet me in Paris" I glanced back up at the painting and the sound of the women returning "What do you think my dear" they asked me in hush tones, "Paris or Venice" at the same time my cell buzzed again......smiling softly and with a small nod as I turned for the door, I looked up from Eleazar's reply, "Paris....always Paris."