We're closing

The boulevard is too loud now. He cannot hear himself think. I cannot hear the cloth. We are not running from a scandal. We are going because we still want a life that is ours. Spring. Judi has the key. Tere knows where the scissors are. If you come by, she will tell you we are not in.

He wants a table and a window and quiet enough to write. I want the shops I already walk when I buy — Paris first, then wherever the cloth is honest. I want a market in the morning. I want to see what they hang in the windows there, and whether I still love this room when I think of it from far away. I hope we find a kinder light. A latch that works. Peace that isn’t a slogan. I hope I come back to Themis in my head and it still smells like sandalwood. If you come by, let the candles be. Love to all.

Pamela