Yesterday night I went downtown to visit a music store in Dupont Circle in the hopes of finding a Maria Callas DVD (the one which contains her famous Tosca from 1964 at Covent Garden). I ended up walking around Dupont Circle before driving to Georgetown, where I spent as much time as my supply of coins for the meters allowed me. I walked down to the waterfront, which was, as it is wintertime, empty and silent. I sat on the boardwalk, and I gazed at the calm waters of the Potomac, the Kennedy Center, the converging lights of cars passing on two different bridges next to it. Oddly enough, everything was silent.
I recall always ending up in this spot every time I felt nostalgic, melancholic, or otherwise in the need for a little inner peace. A river reminds me of another, as it brings back memories of day and nights I spent on the banks of the Garonne river in Toulouse. Toulouse, the place where I escaped from my crazy life in Paris, the place where I went to feel happy and I did. My cherished Toulouse, which I miss cruelly, which I am tempted to go back to.
I look at the waters, as if I expect they'll give me the solutions I seek. At least, whether it is the bright blue waters of the Garonne or the silvery waters of the Potomac, they both bring one temporary, valued thing: peace.