Ah, the French couple, Margaux and Gregoire.
She 25 long auburn soft curls to her hair.
Gregoire age 32 and looks ageless. Same with Margaux. Wonderful youth.
I had to slowly write out their names when they told me so I had it just-so when I signed over one of my books to them. Gregoire has an accent over his name, but I haven't yet figured out how to place that with my keyboard. Forgive me Gregoire!
Newly moved in romantically after knowing one another 3 years, both in Paris, both connected with the cinema and music, as French as French can be. If this is Paris, give me more of it.
Stepped right out of a Eric Rohmer delicacy.
Gregoire the step son of Paul Kahn, once of Bezoar the small press stapled in one corner publication, later a book on the Mongols from North Point, now married to Gregoire's mother in Paris. Paul edits and publishes NEW.
Susan and I saw immediately how enriched these two were, modest, curious, absolute sweethearts for the world.
Traveling with old stage coach driver Jim Koller, in his neat slouched hat, gray long strand ponytail, beatific grin, the warm crinkled eyes. He brought a small box of cheap beer in brown bottles that he shared with Gregoire, a dozen bottles. Two left at midnight. Bob, Sweetheart, Margaux happily sipping lemonade in our Rohmer film. Two quarts of our fresh picked blueberries being passed around. Music playing in all our ears.
Margaux and Gregoire almost pleading with the stage coach driver they would give anything to spend another day in Vermont. Ward Bond smiling and saying they were expected in Evanston "tomorrow night". Nothing but nothing standing in the way, not even NY State, Ohio or the width of the Hoosiers. He'll definitely get the mail through.
We were all asleep at 1 AM and up at 5 saying good morning and tally-ho by 6. Koller will take them everywhere on a USA trip they'll never forget. Poets, relatives, old sites. Remembrance.
Sea to shining sea.
fading light photo © susan arnold