The Cat Spot

Upon returning to Cannes from a  charming, slightly haunted wedding in Saint George sur Cher, I found myself incredibly ill, depressed, and alone. I fell in the dark hole that one wonders if she will ever come out of. I woke up crying, went to bed crying, cried on the train, in the market, at school, basically anywhere. Looking back I can't believe how liberated I was to allow myself to express such raw emotion for the world to see, and didn't have the chance to think twice about it because the tears streamed without prevail. I wished I had died in the accident, kept thinking I made a huge mistake coming over here (yeah it was that bad). I had no friends, nothing, no one, nada. There isn't much to do in Cannes aside from going to the beach, going to the beach, and going to the beach. What Florida is to the United States, Cannes is to France. Lots of old people and lots of teens and springbreaker types just on a more international level. No one liked me at all. Some of the s...

Cannes welcomed me with great humidity. The educated retired 65 year-old woman who enjoys sailing, dancing, cinema and long walks picked me up at the College International de Cannes. She looked at my luggage and seemed confused. She began speaking to me in French. I smiled with confusion and humility. "I don't speak french."-me "I don't speak english."-Martine We both stared at each other, probably thinking the same thing. She brought me back to her flat. Very clean and simple, great view.  After some broken english I discovered there was a German girl also staying at the flat. Stefanie speaks english very well and teaches french in Germany so inevitably speaks French quite well also.   Conversations with the three of us consist of Martine and Stefanie speaking in French, me spacing out onto the water, Stefanie rephrases, Martine and I stare at each other trying to gage emotional response of the other while her piercing blue eyes penetrate intensely with the...