of trains from the groin to the heart.

The train journey to Paris began in the late afternoon with the mist already hanging like a thick blanket caught in mid sweep over this ghostly bed of bare spindly trees and empty fields lying in wait for the thaw. It descended in slow motion, inch by inch, as we sped passed many quaint and decidedly French villages on the main artery from what is possibly France's groin (Toulouse) to it's heart - Paris. Beside us a small river whose name i do not know kept pace for much of the journey as we swayed and rocked in our cocoon on rails. I love trains. Who doesnt? As the sun sank the moon rose , full and bleeding in the sunset, draped magnificently in a gown of mist.
Our seats were luxurious and comfortable and frequent trips to the bar for snacks and beers (and even a dvd) kept us well oiled and cosy throughout the latter part of the (six hour?) trip. At one point a couple sat across the aisle from us with their very new baby - very cute - with head a bobble on his wobbly neck and eyes a goggle at the big life around and ahead of him. We seem to attract babies, Dani and I, there is one across the hall from us in our apartment hotel here in Paris that gurgles and coos, cries and giggles. I think of Kai and Ethan when i see or hear babies and i miss them terribly and marvel at my love for them.
Paris is... well it's Paris. Magnificent and sprawling, graceful and elegant in it's age, robust in it's character and bustling on the cusp of the ever changing here and now. We are staying in (it must be said) quite an ugly part of this achingly beautiful city and i have spent most of my time in rehearsal in the bowels of the National Centre for Dance - a huge brown grey monstrosity of modern architecture as Dani gallivants about town. She brings me tales of her adventures - the Louvre (where she spent a good deal of time watching people watch the Mona Lisa), Notre Dame - she partook in mass - complete with communion and the entire glorious edifice awash with the echo of beautiful voice in song , the Picasso Museum (where she learned that she didnt have to love everything the great master did and therefore allowing herself to love what she does even more. The other night we walked in a semi circle after dinner in Marais toward Pont Neuf station. Drunk with the sights we stumbled in awe past Notre Dame bathed in light, towering above us - smacking our gobs and blowing our minds. Even Phillipe, our French lighting designer so over all things French had to admit in his thick French accent that 'This, she is beautiful.'
Today we venture out in to the city together - me and Dani - i only have to be at rehearsals at 3 - and so i am chomping at the bit. Catacombs here we come.
We will post some pics soon - probably tonight, there are many.
Love to all at home.