Sylvie Hill

PARC LAURIER

Oh, how I poured my heart out in writing to you in a long, long letter from a flat in Montreal with stone walls, and wooden floors along which I ran my hands to touch the soul. A bed all white and those drapes that swayed with the wind off a balcony full of foliage and flowers overlooking Parc Laurier! Oh, how I was feeling soulful and real and beautiful! I wrote you a long letter of my morning rising with the sun, sat on a back balcony in the Montreal style of wrought iron winding staircases and back alleys behind houses used by gentlemen on bikes or by foot, with their young kids! Oh, how I wrote you every detail of how I could walk — * I COULD WALK * — just down the street to pick up my meat, and my wine, and my cheese. Oh, indeed I wrote you my every word and every thought of this crisp, summer June morning in Montreal.

“I couldn’t read your handwriting, kidding ……….. I read 20% of it.”

© Sylvie Hill 2013