life is not about finding yourself, life is about creating yourself. the week. simple moments, every day. there was a dozen vegan blueberry muffins baked with whole oats and raw sugar. finding photographs in paris that make her dream of shooting the streets and the style. she looked into the bedroom one evening to find her love lounging on the made bed, barefoot, typing on his macbook. she fell in love with the scene. a happy birthday to her beautiful sister, who chases after her dreams. an evening spent sipping tea and discussing the wedding and photographs of a wonderful couple in love. two more weddings booked, both in august. one evening, he brought home sushi and they indulged in yam tempura while completing their taxes. after many hours, a sense of completion and relief when the papers were sent to the accountant. a day spent in bed, sniffling. he cooked a healing chicken soup with ginger and mushrooms and leeks and carrots, hinted with a pinch of curry. she nourished herself with hot soup and comforted herself with crusty bread, smoked gruyere and many films. a day of working productively in a cafe with spicy chai and then meeting him for lunch at his office. midweek, she visited michael kors, and came home with the black reptile textured jet set tote with gold details that she has been admiring for weeks. one afternoon brought a meeting with a client: an indian bride, her sweet parents and the charming groom. the groom told her how he designed his love's stunning engagement ring to match the bride's mothers, which was designed by her own husband many years ago. warm-hearted banter was exchanged around the table, as the wedding day was described: a traditional hindu ceremony at the brock house, complete with the groom on a white horse, intricate saris, and garlands; followed by a western ceremony at a yacht club, complete with white gown, vows and rings; followed by cocktails and cupcakes and dancing. her dream clients: global, inspired, luxe. friday morning, he showered early while she slept. he came to wake her, hair still slightly damp, with a chocolate brown towel wrapped around him, tied at the waist. she felt his warm bare skin-wrapped muscle bent over to kiss her cheek, as he whispered i love you so much. she felt beautiful. after he left, she missed him; she pulled on his soft grey cardigan to wear with skinny jeans, a statement necklace, heels. a blend of feminine and masculine, of loose and fitted, of him with her. she curled her hair and welcomed him home for lunch. when they both left the home in the afternoon, she kissed him on the front step of their building, in the rain, beneath his umbrella. he went off to finish his work for the week, and she climbed into the mercedes of a friend waiting for her. the two friends went for green tea and caught up... they both work in the wedding industry, and gushed over dream brides, over magazine publications, over luxurious details. they discussed their loves, their careers, their futures. travel and babies and journalism. a friend with whom there is always so much to connect. they talked of diamonds, of tiffany's, of harry winston, of cushion cut, of halos, of the seven carat beauty that makes one's heart flutter. un ami est toujours un personnage à deux faces. d'un côté, il nous renvoie notre image, de l'autre il appartient à cette société qui nous est inconnue. (francesco alberoni). friday evening was complete when she was with her love again... when they dined on shwarma and unfiltered belgian beer, seated at the kitchen island. they soaked in knowledge about age and communication and education, and debated excitedly for hours, quoting hayek and rand and gilbert. they love that they share an intellectual curiosity, and that they satiate one another with the energy of good conversation.
