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hors sujet

This was such a melancholy post.

It is amazing how some smells are forever intertwined with the memory of a particular place. While the weather changes, and furniture gets moved around, the smell of a place is so constant.

Are you moving back to the US, away from Paris?

I hope everything is ok.

Best wishes,

HS

wilma

oh, pie, you make me sigh, but if moving back to the states might turn you into a poet, there'll be some consolation in reading your words. the creeley posts are great, and i hate that i, too, did not know he had died...

pope

i had no idea. how sad. here's my favorite:

Love

The thing comes
of itself

(Look up
to see
the cat & the squirrel,
the one
torn, a red thing,
& the other
somehow immaculate

- R. Creeley

Firefly

It is scary, when I returned to North America after living in Paris (actually the banlieue, Lozere)for three years I had a huge culture shock. Everyone dressed so casually and made eye contact on the streets, quite the opposite from Paris, I felt overdressed wherever I went and I missed my favourite tarte d'abricots, the metro, even smelly Chatelet. Enjoy the Spring, it is your reward for having survived the grey winter and savour your last moments, I still haven't found a panini as tasty as the ones I bought on the street. It is nice to come home though, and share the adventure with others. Your post brought back my memories of uncertainty and regret, but also of the joy of taking risks and falling in love...

b&j

It's a small consolation, we know, but there are at least two ex-expats here in New York who promise you wine, charcuterie, and chocolates.

Donna

America, the poem, gives me goosebumps.

pope

never an expat, but not a pat, either (except perhaps in the same way creeley is one), i promise to soften your return with all-american goodies like brownies and chocolate chip cookies and (ok, this one's actually not all-american, but was popular here in the all-american 1950s) pineapple upside-down cake. i'll even save some of this last one for bk if b&j invite me over for wine and charcuterie to celebrate your long-awaited arrival.

Linus

I've come back twice, once after two years in Italy/Paris and once after two years in Berlin. It's a strange thing to go through, but one that illuminates in its way. Sometimes, admittedly, by burning.

Ari

I love you Yaya. Come home knowing that I will be waiting on the brooklyn stoop with open arms. There will be a good ol' American bbq in the back and I promise I won't make you correct any more essays. (except of course the ones that will get me into the American universities.) smoochies.

Ari

I love you Yaya. Come home knowing that I will be waiting on the brooklyn stoop with open arms. There will be a good ol' American bbq in the back and I promise I won't make you correct any more essays. (except of course the ones that will get me into the American universities.) smoochies.

miss p

this is really a message for ari:

i'll be happy to correct those application essays for american universities if the pie is otherwise engaged!

panasianbiz

I stumbled across your blog while I was doing some online research. As someone who has had the privilege to travel extensively, I understand your desire to write a poem about returning to America. Yes, it's been done, but that doesn't mean you can't contribute your own unique voice and perceptions to the mix!

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