From New York

When "going abroad" was still an abstract concept; before it meant barely understanding the conversation at dinner...

PARIS
I am about to venture into a great unknown. I hope to do so humbly, confidently, unapologetically, sensitively. Full of awareness and un-self-consciousness; boldness and openness. I am taking with me - as I always have - some STUFF of years past - pictures, quotations, scarves, friends, beliefs, fears, dreams, and leaving plenty of space to pick up some new ones.

I feel, excited, utterly excited, expectant, (congested,) un-met; hand held out to shake new hands, kiss new cheeks, and adorned with a fair share of butterflies - but ones that are flying quite peacefully inside me. I lie in a cover that put my pre-1st day of 1st grade self to sleep, using a Ramaz pencil on a drawing pad that my art teacher gave me after our class trip to Paris in 11th grade, with a night light given me to use in college by dear relatives who knew me as a teen. I feel these pieces diffused into me-
not weighing me down
but clothing me as I take off to a new unknown.

I hope to read English books and French newspapers, watch French movies & musicians & artists & children & slums & exhibits & people & fashion & prayer services & elders & nature & new countries & Jewish stories & world histories. Through plane and train, humble and vain windows, with coherent French exiting my mouth and good-looking French cuisine approaching it. Towns and gowns and whatever (iy"h) else.

GOD BLESS!