WEBVTT

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I had a strange dream. I had a strange dream,

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Paris. All my dreams are strange. You were not

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in it, though it ended with me ending a social

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gathering by saying, I need to go by 11 or 12

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for Imagined Paris. It was understood and accepted.

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It was a strange dream. I was asked what it was

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like to drink whiskey or cognac. They didn't

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even ask what it was like to drink in the morning.

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Was it the morning? I swear it didn't look like

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anywhere the Spoon I've been to. Ah, could they

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just be British? This uncertainty about the time

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of the day will cloud my attempt to interpret

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the dream for sure. I need to go by 11 or 12

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for Imagined Paris could mean I need to apply for my French long-stay visa by month 11 or 12. And now it

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could also mean by day 11 or 12. Anyway, I answered:

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this is armagnac, actually, but when I lived in

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Paris, I used to drink whisky or brandy at the

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counter in the corner of an old bar, like a lonely

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old man, in a dress. Now, if - when I go back to

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living in Paris, I won't be a lonely man in the

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corner of an old bar, in a dress or a pair of

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trousers, anymore. I will be surrounded by not

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only friends but love. I will be not only loved

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but surrounded by friendships. It won't be just

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one or the other. Maybe I'll still walk in the

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rain alone, occasionally, for feeling misunderstood.

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But that's all right, a falling star would fly

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back up in a hurry if anyone wished to understand

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me fully. It's good to be understood by someone,

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albeit not fully, and it's great to never be

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misunderstood by oneself. Full-bodied (it means

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I don't need to eat much) - that's how I will feel,

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like the drink in my dream. I will be bolder,

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earthier, more intense, more artisanal - these

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are the qualities of armagnac compared to cognac

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that my Google search came up with, by the way.

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Being single distilled, I won't think twice about

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launching anything, a compliment or an idea.

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Will I not? You're so confusing, Paris, I like

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it! Well, perhaps single-distilled just means

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I will be less filtered than I already am, if

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that's possible. Hey, anything's possible! Either

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way, Paris, you are in for a ride! Maybe not

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a ride because I don't drive anymore. A spin?

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I'm not a good dancer. Hmm, you are in for everything

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that's real that doesn't require that much of

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adrenaline - how about that? Like a sailing trip?

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The boat I'm currently living on in Chelsea has

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neither a sail nor an engine anymore, so maybe

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like... when an Uber boat goes past the barge

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and makes it swing side to side to jog your balance

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a little bit. A little bit often, I'd say. 

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C'est la vie on the River Thames, where I enjoy

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my isolation in between hosting dinners, working

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on something with my artist friends and going

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to the theatres. It's strange how life seems

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to be perfectly balanced while I'm living on

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something that moves all the time. It's strange

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to think of moving to Paris when I'm already

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surrounded by artists in London now. Someone

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said recently, "I think London is the best city

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in the world, why would you want to move to Paris?"

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It's a dream, and all my dreams are strange.

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It's a dream, and I take my dreams seriously.

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Londres. Le 9 novembre 2025. Je t 'embrasse.