I’ve lost my way to cutting board and stove. Only the simplest of foods get made in my kitchen these days.
But classes are over, and I have been free(er) to wander. As usual, the loosening of routine opens me up to the random geography of the city. Wandering, I am full of wonder.
I bring my students to Trinity Square Video, to see an excellent show called Extra-Territoriality. It’s good to be out of the classroom, and surrounded by art. One of the artists, Ursula Biemann, talks to us about her new video essay, X-Mission, which explores the physical and psychic geography of Palestinian refugees.
There is a tea party reception being set up as we leave. I call The Diasporic Filmmaker, she joins me, we stay for tea.
The DF and I continue our conversation at the lovely French bistro Jules, over rosé wine and frites avec mayonnaise. Rain taps against glazed windows; chandeliers glimmer in the muted daylight. We talk about our films, and about sex, and relationships and the aura of new creative projects on the horizon.
We part on a street corner, and I keep walking, past vegetables glistening brightly in the soft spring rain.
A few days later, Balkan Babe invites me for dinner at her home in The Junction. It’s like leaving town and going back a few decades, what with the neighbourhood’s old-fashioned architecture and signage.
Balkan Babe has wine and appetizers set up for me on a bistro table as she cooks handmade gnocchi with mushroom sauce. I recognize this old-world hospitality, feels like home.
I tell her I think I may be done with cooking. She snorts dismissively and fills my plate with food.