I think this is the life I was aiming for—no tourist stuff, just an everyday life where I do laundry and run errands and have doctor’s appointments and write a poem before going to bed each night. I’m meeting a friend in Angers tomorrow and I did stop by the cathedral again to get a closer look at the empty embrasures that once held statues of saints and bishops and apostles…found a convent along the way, or what’s left of it (one wall). A plaque with two angels was above the door, their faces hacked off by either Huguenots in the 16th century or radicals during the Revolution. I did some online research and learned that the basilica was also pillaged and the body of St. Martin was burned…I dip in and out. Last night I wrote a short poem/passage about the mob that stopped a Huguenot man as he was fleeing the city; they thought he had gold but when they couldn’t find it on him, they assumed he’d swallowed it and so cut him open and searched his entrails. Finding nothing, they cut out his heart and paraded it through the streets. It’s a lot but I studied lynching for a decade so mob violence isn’t new to me.I just have less stamina now.

It provides balance, doing mundane things. I went to see an Italian film (Eleonora Duse) with a classmate yesterday and understood about 80% of the French subtitles. I leave Tours on February 17 so want to do a bit more research since I won’t be able to visit these historic sites that feature in my story. I’ve decided on a crow narrator and that helps with neutrality. I don’t think Huguenots broke Catholics on the rack but that doesn’t mean they were innocent. And there were Catholics who tried to stop the bloodshed. From here I go to Liverpool for three months, which puts me close to Dublin; that’s another country with religious wars but I’m going to keep my distance there, too. Trying not to watch too many news programs but know there’s a general strike today in the US to protest the atrocities committed by ICE. I’m not working or shopping; just waiting at home for a delivery and thinking about the future.

My mother has decided to start palliative care so I will have one more week of French lessons before heading to Toronto to see her. I don’t think this is “the end” but best to visit sooner rather than later. A couple of friends are coming into the city so we can meet up while I’m in town. I think I’ll leave my winter coat and sweaters behind since spring starts early here in Europe. It’s still cold, but the botanic garden looks and sounds like spring—chirping birds on branches, and frothy buds on bushes, and green shoots poking up through the soil. The Year of the Snake is almost over and a meme on IG reminded me that snakes need friction to slough off their dead skin. I’ve got an ongoing problem back in Chicago and it flared again this week. I went to the garden to calm myself, had a sleepless night, and then faced it head on. There’s still no resolution but I’m trying to see it as the rough terrain I have to traverse in order to shed my skin. The only way is forward, right?