tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday. there were black and white images printed for the home; there was a personal message from one that inspires her. she emerged from a sushi restaurant in yaletown, and saw a familiar man in a black wool coat hurrying from the italian cafe to his office. she called out his name; it was her love. they stopped in the middle of the street for a hello and a kiss, and then he left for his meeting. that evening, she was cleaning dishes, looking around their modern flat with its sleek lines, minimal design, european and asian influences, natural textures -- a home so evocative of themselves, of their life here, and she thought, how can we leave this amazing life and move away? it was the same feeling that she had when they were leaving edinburgh -- a season that she looks back upon as one of the most memorable of her life -- and so, this feeling must be a marker of goodness. an indication that their move to paris will mean that they embark on a journey that changes them. the next morning, she worked from bed for hours and reveled in the luxury of her schedule. that evening, she met a kindred soul over hot lemon water and a chocolate macaron. they discussed what it would mean to live a life that is interesting, rather than content. how might it be that instead of searching for a happy life, they could seek a juicy one. they wondered what it might look like to be uncomfortable, but to find meaning. to let go. to be more of themselves. she carried these thoughts in her heart for days, inspired. she arrived home before her love; he opened the door with a bundle of white roses under his arm. he simmered curry on the stove and they enjoyed flatbread with baba ganouj as they shared their days. he told her about an evening spent with a french friend in a home with housemates from all over the world, discussing cuisine and world travel. she told him about juicy. they were both inspired by the souls they encountered. the following morning, thursday. she woke before the sun had risen, in the small hours of the day. he slept soundly; she kissed his warm, freckled forehead and dressed for yoga. she took a personal lesson in the ashtanga primary series. two hours of intensity. it was her first ashtanga practice since living in europe. the motions were both foreign and familiar, both remembered and forgotten. she quietly sang the invocation. vande gurunam charanaravinde sandarshita svatmasukavabodhe... the om resonated in her. vinyasa after vinyasa her weakness became strength. her teacher counted in sanskrit, encouraging her to steady her ujjayi breathing. she completed the entire series, even attempting headstand. she took complete blanket-covered rest in savasana. she came home to the bed made and the heater turned on, a home ready for her to work in. she worked slowly, taking time to recover and rehydrate. in the evening, they took a walk at dusk and watched the skyline painted in greys and pastels. they connected, always having more to share, uniting in laughter on the sidewalk. they watched a film of relationships, the romantics. he slipped her sweater off of her shoulder to reveal bare, pale skin and he rubbed softly it with his thumb. he rubbed her muscles with oil, yet every part of her body ached as she slept. she could barely turn from one side to the other; a sensation of deserved rest after intense yoga. a feeling she craves. friday, she read beautiful words, and longed to write such poetry: it feels like spring here. like warm and cool have exchanged vows in a beautiful blue-skied ceremony and have brought forth a love child who dwells right here, right now. she is splendid, this love child, and she brings with her breezes that send our curtains fluttering and call the babies outside. he asked her to meet him for a drink after work. she dressed in heels and jewels and piled her hair high on her head. they sat at the bar in goldfish, the contemporary west coast restaurant in yaletown. they admired the capiz shells and the modern design. he ordered a bold californian cab sav, and she sipped a flute of a bubbly italian cocktail with prosecco. they sampled coriander hummus and shared their hearts and their lives. the bubbly made her giggly, and it was good.
