paracosm
“There are times when I am so unlike myself that I might be taken for someone else of an entirely opposite character.”
Geneva. It smells clean and looks posh. Luscious and green with snowy mountain peaks and swans grooming lakeside.
The French are exquisite. What a languid and romantic language. I hardly understand a thing.
On my first day in Geneva, a man treated me to a bubbly drink.
In NYC, it was chocolate cake.
I wonder what Spain will treat me to….
I spent the day wandering. My ripped leather sandals are soft on the cobblestones. On Sunday, all is closed in Switzerland. There is something enchanting about taking a day off in a city to picnic and relax. Goddess Day. The women dress in silks and scarves. The men in cuffed shirts and fitted shorts. Shoes with no socks, tanned ankles that smile at the sun.
To be alive in such a lovely city can only make your heart sing.
I purchased some foodstuffs from an Italian Marketplace a 10-minute walk from where I am staying. Burrata. Tomatoes. Rocket. French bread. Espresso. A thick slice of focaccia bread with artichoke and zucchini baked on top.
My shoulders and arms are dark from ambling in the sunshine. I walked to the fountain and ate the focaccia beside two young girls wearing swimsuits and shirts tied over their long dark hair. A beach lays beyond the fountain and carnival- a merry-go-round and Ferris wheel that light up in the dark. The rides were not busy. The hammocks were full.
I courted fatigue for the day. My flight arrived at 8:30 AM from Frankfurt. I carried my suitcases up five flights of stairs to my room. A long window looks over the street where bars and cafes line the streets and men sit outside and smoke and drink. I unpacked and dressed for a yoga class. Yoga Flame. I have a girl crush on the teacher. I don’t know her name. She taught in French and I followed along with what I knew. I’ll be fluent by the time I leave for Barcelona. The teacher had dark eyes and hair with white nails and spangly earrings.
Everyone is so posh in Geneva.
Unassumed sexiness.
I haven’t seen any men, though the streets are teeming with them. I’m too focused on the women. No one boasts in Geneva. It would counter the impression of elegance worn as the tiny purses dangling from wrists.
Photo source.
