Red Room has changed the look of the website, and I feel disoriented, as if I were visiting a foreign place, one I haven’t visited for a while, and everything has changed: is bigger smaller different-colored, the tobacco shop has been replaced by a women’s clothing store, the pastry across the street is under new management. Do I even remember my password? Have the locks been changed?
Starting to think about the annual transhumance. We leave for Paris in three weeks. What I’m thinking most about is food: cheese (and the cheese store’s gnocchi and its pesto), and cakes—chocolate cakes from Hévin, lemon tarts from—no, never mind the name, they once gave my husband change for a small bill at the cash counter when he’d given them a much larger bill, and afterwards he refused to go back, though he was quite happy to stand on the sidewalk pointing at what he wanted while I went in and bought it.
It feels like fall here: the air is cooler, damp-foggy in the morning like the west coast of Donegal, then crisp and golden later like—well, like here, but also like France.