Yesterday I passed a cellist and a clarinettist busking in the street. I was inspired to speak with them but as it wasn't the best moment for chatting I decided to leave a note in their bowler instead. I asked them to forgive my french (which is undreamedly worse when I write), and if they were interested in making an evening of musical conversation over a glass or two. It turned out to be very Amélie Poulain-esque of me!
Normally I wouldn't have gotten in such a dither about it but I nearly died here without making any friends yet I could talk deeply about music with. It has surely been good for me to step outside of that universe for a while but as only three weeks remain I think it would do me well to re-acquaint myself with my former self.
Not a half-hour later I received a text message asking to meet that evening. As I was previously engaged to a dinner with my lovely family I took a raincheck and we organized a way to communicate in the meanwhile. (I should have known that they weren't from Annecy, their loafers and lime green ankle socks). As for the mails, it is reassuring to hear when french people tell me now that they suppose their english is worse than my french. I am quite nervous to test my ability however to speak about music in my second language.
