30 May 2020

A face on the street

Graffiti on a wall where two streets meet in Montmartre.


Every time I'm on the rue Gabrielle I can't help but think of a lovely young American, a writer, who settled in Paris and we became co-writers/editors on an online franco-zine. We met when she'd had a close call with the infamous administration française and contacted me, but in no time at all she was off and running and didn't need me at all. The next time I saw her she'd gotten herself ensconced on the rue Gabrielle with two fluffy cats in the most charming sort of atelier with sweeping romantic rooftop views. She made a mean cup of tea and we'd swap great laughs and great stories. Her self-effacing enthusiasm and bottomless creativity was refreshing to be around and as contagious as the coronavirus, and made me (almost) consider taking a break from Paris to re-discover the land of frozen margaritas.

Gabrielle, if you're reading this, wherever you are, thank you for those unforgettable times and equally unforgettable cups of tea. - BPJ

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