holiday postcard: dated xmas eve, mailed from paris

christmas greetings are slowly trickling into my inbox like innocent snowflakes, misguided by the persuasions of a kind wind. it makes me think that at a time when i believe in fate more than ever,  perhaps even more than during the two years of my christian phase, christmas seems a strangely appropriate setting for the intended mishaps of life. beyond the golden streets and glittering shop displays, there is an aura of knowing about the entire affair, a sensation that tells you it is a celebration even for the unchristian because the eve is when all the shit that happens to you in the year should come to an end there and then. with the love pouring in from all angles and the little words of wisdom around me, Frank Sinatra might as well be singing “let it go, let it go, let it go”.

a friend of mine told me yesterday that despite her current situation, she still watched Love Actually twice and cried buckets of tears over it each time. i couldn’t help thinking how silly it was to throw all emotional caution to the wind in such a state. inducing tears in the week leading up to a lonely christmas? by watching that ridiculous movie, no less? never. but after mellowing things down with a long night of booze, shisha and one foolhardy cigarette, i’m thinking that perhaps that is how she’s managing to let things go, by being as reckless (would careless be a better word?) in the end as she was in the very beginning.

merry christmas and see you next year, everyone.


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