mon jardin secret
Amongst all the secret gardens hidden in the ancient courtyards of Paris, the one I cherish well is tucked behind heavy portal doors painted a bright cobalt blue. I enter into the shady coolness of worn cobblestones that echo the sound of my footsteps. The garden is only a few exotic plants in large terra-cotta pots clustered in front of an airy atelier that was formerly a fromagerie. I hear voices and domestic sounds drift from the various open windows above, and sometimes the impassioned practicing of the concert violinist on the fourth floor…
To think of all the lively conversations, the decadent pleasures of long meals and soft nights… such precious grace notes floating out to this tiny courtyard garden over the years… this is forever the intimate Paris of my secret life…
“As a vespertine veil descends upon the dome of Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis, the medieval soliloquy pervades once more these narrow streets of the Marais…
Not far from here sits a quiet room where a pleasured violin can be heard moaning softly across the courtyard. And in the evening of constancy, the unseen bird from the garden of the Marquis de Brinvilliers answers back with the sweetest of poisoned notes…”
[Excerpted from "A Room in the Marais" by g. verster, 2004]
