Exiting the Metro station I found myself lost in Paris at night.
I wouldn’t say necessarily that I was lost, but incredibly unfamiliar, as I had been here months before .. but the district laid like puzzle pieces in a dream that I was so desperate to connect the meaning of.
It was my last interview for my Paris chapter of “Drag Landscapes”, and I was barely making it as I had a flight from Charles De Gaulle back to Chicago in the next few hours. My phone had only 5% left on it, so I had written down the instructions to his place on a ripped piece of paper from my art book.
In front of me laid a street that stopped and created a circle around a church, as if the street itself was afraid of God. My humor of the thought quickly dissipated as I saw the floodlights of around the church blare around the structure.. making it abnormally whiter that anything around it. The sky around it was a cauldron of soupy fog that seemed to stretch and pirouette around its alabaster skin like a battalion of ghost ballerinas who were forgetful about their previous human form.
I pulled out my crumpled well worn page of directions, and like clockwork, a well calculated spit take of rain smattered my page as if the sky had heard an amazing joke from the moon. I watched the words of Rue De Domremy blur into “RueeeeDoeeemmeeee” and the street number decided to water color itself out as a hopeful candidate of a Rorschach test.
I whispered “…fuck…” to myself, realizing I was going to be late, and ran to the nearest cover to grab my phone (which was slowly dying) to text them. Back on track I hurried through the streets around Quartier Asiatique repeating the directions out loud like a madman convinced that the conversation he was having with the air was a legitimate person. The sky darkened from the ghostly glow of fog into the deep black night as I furthered into the twisting streets and alleyways of the city to my destination.