Five Months

Zara blazer (similar)
Almada Label top (similar)
Zara jeans
Mango belt
Chanel flats
Chanel handbag
Celine sunglasses
Celine necklace (similar)
Linjer rings (c/o)
Location: Place Dauphine – Paris, France

Paris, June 1, 2023

Dear friends,

Can we pause and take a moment to reflect on where this year has gone? The first five months of 2023 came to a close yesterday, but it feels like January was yesterday and 2021 was a week ago. A recent flip through an old journal, which dates back to my teen years, revealed that my fascination with time began early. I didn’t really need a journal to tell me, though. I remember contemplating the passage of time, the relative speed of it compared to how long it sometimes seemed from moment to moment, on dull school bus rides when I was six.

This isn’t new subject matter. I’ve reflected on time regularly over the years, and typically, my musings always come back to the same point. Yes, I know that the sensation of how quickly time passes increases in direct proportion to our experience of time – which explains why every minute feels like an hour when we’re four, and hours pass like seconds by the time we’re reached age thirty-four. But the facts feel inadequate. They’re insufficient to describe the way that sometimes, it feels like I can actually hear the wind in my ears because every day goes back so fast.

Five months. By the time I publish this letter, it’s probable that two or three more will have gone by. And that I’ll have little to show for them but a number of Excel spreadsheets I’m too exhausted to tally, dozens of short poems quickly typed into the Notes app on my phone and striped tan lines on my feet from summer walks wearing worn out Birkenstock sandals.

I don’t know where the time goes, just that there never seems to be enough of it. And that whether I’m thinking about on five months or five years, I’m always looking back with a sense of awe that so much and so little can simultaneously happen in a given period of time. But I’m relieved to be able to say that for once, this Parisian sojourn has felt substantial. No amount of time back home is ever long enough, really. And yet, these days haven’t felt rushed. We’ve lounged on our balcony with cheese and wine, watching the sunset over the city. I’ve read half a dozen of the books I found on the shelves of our apartment. I could ask for more than that, of course, but there isn’t much more I really want from a holiday.

…except maybe for it to never end. But I feel that way about every holiday. And my whole life, really, whether it’s five months or five years or even fifty. I’m having a grand time, and I want it to last forever.

Maybe what we should actually do is pause to reflect on how fortunate I am, to feel that way. I hope you’re all so lucky.

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