I haven’t been out and about in a while. I got the chance to break the streak, when a lovely woman decided to take me to one of her favourite places.
The restaurant is cosy. The wallpaper is fleur-de-lis, in muted gold over pale rose. There are flowers everywhere and the smell of lavender makes a lovely accompaniment to the complete silence.
It was a house once and some of the rooms have been turned into private dining chambers. There is old-world here in the thick walls and I am told stories of the Gold rush. My companion is happy to be here, delighted to introduce me to one of her favourite haunts. Their clams are the best I have had in ages. The fois gois, prepared with black truffles, is heavenly. We share the Grand Marnier souffle. There is decadent port too.
There is coffee at the end. I found it necessary to give me the energy to stir myself from that long four-course meal. The proprietor gave us roses as we prepared to leave, for the road.
We went to a tea house afterwards. Pearls unfurled into leaves of tea as we spoke of life and other petty matters. She was beautiful in her blue dress, at home amid the delicate china and the fragrant jasmine. If it was a portrait, it was a portrait with not a chord in dissonance.
Some of us belong somewhere. Maybe all of us belong somewhere and only some of us are lucky to find our home within our lifetime.