It's springtime and my office is a garden, feet gradually sinking into the muddy earth as I walk amongst the wildflowers.
I've been delaying this entry due to being preoccupied with developing new ideas, working and hosting friends who came to visit. Nonetheless, we are now approaching the last term of the year at FONACT, and looking back, the second term was quite extraordinary in the amount of things we learned in such a short period of time.
In my last post I touched on the plays we were working on and the mask work, which continues to fascinate me in ways I find difficult to articulate. What I can say is that the craft is deepening and we are marrying techniques both consciously and subconsciously, in movement and in stillness.
One of the most memorable moments of the term was something I framed as an "impossible" task. The task in question being bursting into tears, crying, and then breaking into laughter, centre stage at the Fontainebleau theatre. Without props or words, we could only rely on our imagination, and whatever private circumstances each of us assigned to ourselves. Those remain our secret to keep as everyone has their own trigger and a way to unwind from it. Watching the ensemble move through that together was something unforgettable.
During the break I stayed in Fontainebleau and I feel lucky for that. Many friends I hadn't seen in a while found their way here. It's been a perfect balance between work, adventure and rest. I've been learning how to play pool and realised I really enjoy it, but not only that, I genuinely believe I can be really good at it with the right amount of practice. As goes to anything you put your focus towards and accounts to all. With no morning classes, I've been easing into longer breakfasts, stretching out in the sun, painting by the canal, and wandering the paths of the forest.
It's been soul nourishing, which I don't always let myself receive. This break felt like a glass of clear water, a beautiful medicine, wrapped in a light cloak of reality. Sweet to savour, with a slightly spicy aftertaste.
I've been hosting my childhood friend Teja in my home for the past 10 days. We visited a few exhibitions and museums. And at a point we started wondering whether walking through the Louvre might be comparable to hiking a mountain as it is a maze of staircases, with an overwhelming abundance of artworks. Though there are works from across centuries and civilisations, it's almost impossible to truly pause and sit with what's behind them. You move through history like a current, swept along before you can settle. Seemed more like a promenade. And to actually inhabit what you see you'd need to stay there for a couple of days.
The exhibition of photographs by Sebastião Salgado was a different experience entirely. The attention it demanded was focused and rewarding. I actually engaged with it more and left feeling full rather than overstimulated. It's been one of the most significant things I've seen since arriving in France. There's something wonderful about the fact that most museums and exhibitions here are free for those under twenty-five. It makes expanding your imagination and knowledge feel very accessible. I do enjoy that about Paris. 
I think we often confuse volume with depth. The Louvre holds thousands of masterpieces, still I was more captivated by a room of black-and-white photographs. That stays easily translated to life itself. We live more fully when we're not so constricted by our schedules and actually have the time to ground our thoughts in reality, put attention and intention towards people when meeting them, rather than rushing through everything on stress mode. From my experience it’s slower, more carefree moments, that really stay with us.
And whilst I am missing my friends and family, I am now more confident in the fact that distance sometimes strengthens bonds. I don't feel sad that they're not with me, but rather happy to tell them about my adventures and learn about theirs when our paths cross again.
Yours,
Patricija 🐇