Clowns and Fools

---

A troop of clowns walked into the café on an otherwise grey day in Vichy- a colourful mish mash of characters, all ends and bright felt shoes. I sip my crème and decide to stay I should in France a little longer.

A nice Sunday walk, now I know why the French take them so religously. When you are down, you can find a million things to pick you up, like the warm baguettes on Clemenceau, the staff of life. Or pain chocolat in the boulangerie near my studio. There are the patisseries and confits behind clear glass displays. Raspberries dusted with sugar, and tartes with fresh curls of lemon rinds. There is the joy of feeding birds in Parc Napoleon and sipping bitter creamy crèmes in my café with Santa sitting across the way smoking hand rolled cigarettes and holding a trombone.

Yes, two days ago, I would have hopped the next flight to Canada. I would have run home to the comfort and safety of the ones I love, but today, I couldn't imagine ever leaving all this.

I smile at Christian, smoking behind the bar and sip my crème. How integral this all has become in my life.

The clowns finish their drinks. They pick up their instruments and assemble in the middle of the café. As they begin to play, and the trombone starts dancing around the room, I notice a sticker on a drum. 'J'aime la vie, J'aime l'amour!' Yes, sometimes its 'C'est la vie!', but what a life it is!

---