WEBVTT

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A home at last. A bientôt Paris. I made it back

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to the pier in Chelsea this morning feeling drowsy

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yet happy and with clarity. Yes, I had to run

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from my last Parisian abode in Montmartre to

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Gare du Nord with a massive suitcase, a heavy

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backpack, a handbag, a stick umbrella and a box

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of galettes des rois less than an hour before my

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Eurostar departure, having tried to get an Uber

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a few times to no avail, thanks to some running

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competition on my route, but I was so certain

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things were going to be all right. More than

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all right. Things have been more than all right,

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Paris. Things have been magical. My generous

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hosts and friends in Nation looked after me

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wonderfully while I was staying there. I was

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not only taken care of. with delicious homemade

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food and fulfilling conversations in their beautiful

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Haussmannian apartment, but also allowed the space

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so I could write, and the freedom to go out until

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late so that I had something to write. For this,

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I am most grateful and enormously moved. In the

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end. I got to go to La Coupole's monthly Paris

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Follies night and dressed up as a single princess

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and wearing a crown again (this time Russian

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for the Slavic night); see a burlesque performance

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with my beautiful and quirky showgirls; sit at

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cafes with old and new friends for a couple of

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drinks; go to friends' Indonesian restaurants

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for specially reserved meals; infiltrate a furniture

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brand cocktail party in Saint -Germain -des -Prés;

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pretend to be an interior designer for a few

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hours at Maison et Objets exhibition in Villepinte

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to get shiny catalogues and totes and practice

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my acting; and enjoy a jazz show at Le Bal Blomet

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as a special invite by my talented pianist friend

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Bastien. I even got recognized as a poet, not

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a millionaire yet. by an Indonesian bookshop

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owner who is currently studying at La Sorbonne

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while I went to a restaurant by myself. In the

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end, I got to drink red wine and fussy with white,

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alone, making notes on my smart Moleskine papers

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or reading in the middle of people watching.

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In the end, I got to walk Parisian streets, a

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lot of Parisian streets, alone, in the heart-warmingly

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mild January weather that I didn't get a chance

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to wear tights under my skirts and dresses when

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I wasn't wearing my baggy jeans, breathing in

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the love and stories available to me, exhaling

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my doubts, sometimes buying second-hand books

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and always catching flash invaders. In the end,

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I didn't skip a single running day or writing

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day. A decade has passed since Imagined Paris'

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first love letter, yet some people still ask,

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why Paris? And I could never respond with more

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than, 'because I was reborn in Paris', 'because

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I feel at home in Paris', or 'because most of my

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friends are in Paris'. But, as salty water went

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upstream into my eyes from inhaling traces of

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my soul back in my solitary Parisian walks, I

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can now say: in the end, I have a physical place

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I could call home. And that is huge, because

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though it was noble and all to call my heart

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a home, my heart doesn't mind letting her hair

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down every so often. My heart doesn't mind simply

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existing without the burden of providing freedom

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and joy. Because freedom and joy are given when

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she's in Paris. Because in Paris, she is fully

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open. I now feel so embraced while embracing

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all my Parisian phases--the 'young and abandoned'

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Dina, the 'unhappily married' Dina, the 'reborn

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and rebellious' Dina, the 'single and not on the

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dating apps' Dina, the 'insatiable Londoner girlfriend'

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Dina, and the current phase I haven't got a label

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for yet. The 'current phase' Dina is untethered.

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Free. She is so free she isn't afraid of opening

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the old band-aid slowly, airing the wounds and

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redressing and healing them by giving them a

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voice. A few hundred words at a time. She is

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so free she gives herself permission to be soft

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and to breathe and walk slowly as if not having

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a purpose. Because the purpose is to be free.

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The purpose is done and it's time to live it

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and keep on becoming because of it. To the 'current

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phase' Dina, home is where freedom is. And she

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feels most free in Paris. She can call Paris

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her home--a physical, emotional and metaphysical

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home. I'm home at last! londres, le 18 janvier 2026, je t'embrasse!
