Like your river. Where are you taking me, Paris?
Where is your overflowing river carrying my overflowing
heart to? To the ones who have been staying in
one place. How do I explain my journey? How do
I comfort those who have been unlucky enough
to settle down? Or are they the lucky ones? How
am I content with all the discontentment of others
projected onto my life through conversations
and through their so-called love for me? As
your Seine isn't tidal, Paris, so steady is my
love for you, and so navigable for different vessels
to travel through. She keeps changing, yet she
stays the same. Except, perhaps, in continuous
heavy rain, where she overflows and covers her
surroundings more than people are used to see.
My heart is learning from her, like Siddhartha
learning from the old ferryman's river. How could
I be discontent with a steady stream? Your river,
Paris, she is deep and wide enough for vessels
to travel. My heart is deep, and more so in continuous
heavy rain, but has it been wide enough for vessels
to travel? And is it safe enough for one to stay,
especially when it is overflowing? My heart is
learning from your Seine, Paris, and it must keep
changing yet stay the same, except perhaps in
continuous heavy rain, which makes it seem destructive
to those unprepared just by being itself. Like
your river, my heart must keep changing yet stay
the same whether vessels travel through or whether
they stay. In the last month I have managed to
stay with you longer than I stayed with London
and its tidal Thames. In any case, the pier master
at Cadogan Pier anticipates my short stay by
greeting me with "how long are you staying for?
two hours?" whenever he's lucky enough to bump
into my smiley face outside the weekends. He
may have started to think that I'm either a spy
or super rich, one of which must be true. Unlike
the pier master, I anticipate my long stay within
me. I've lost her before. She was sold and offered
at auctions by those I trusted for gains I didn't
enjoy. Never again, Paris. I got her back and
that's why I feel super rich even if it looks
like I've been losing probably a lot more than
any responsible person could fathom or handle.
She is fully mine and it is up to me to extend
her to anyone as I please. For love and for the
joy of love. This very season, my self keeps
pouring back into me and that is why my heart
is overflowing. My heart surroundings, including
my entire body and nervous system. not used to
this yet, are unprepared. But things will settle,
Paris, as my heart finds channels to flow through,
a vast ocean to flow into, continuously, not
to settle down. And, inevitably, everyone, including
my body and my nervous system, will get used
to this steady stream. About a decade ago, my
fellow poet Rahung introduced me to our film
crew in Paris by saying, "Dina is the kind of
person who would live even if you threw her into
the river Seine". It was said on the verge of me
getting so close to grabbing myself back from
the hands of everyone but me, to walking out
of my imprisonments. And I failed, Paris. And I
thought it was because I couldn't swim. I didn't
understand what my friend meant. I didn't see
that I wasn't supposed to swim. I was supposed
to flow, Paris. And I have been flowing. Though
perhaps unbeknownst to me. And now that I know,
Paris, and now that I accept, I am openly flowing.
Ever changing. Ever the same. Like a river. Ni
Paris, ni londres, le premier mars de 2026. je
t 'embrasse sans cesse !