is it my destiny to be depressed in paris?
notes on sadness in a foreign place
is it my destiny to be depressed in paris?
this was a message i received with a smile from my sister on friday. it referenced back to a european trip we did together many years ago. we were both in periods of severe unhappiness which contrasted against our vibrant surroundings. we joke now at the absurdity of such experiences. i share below a little reflection on the particular sorrow i’ve felt far from home.
i wish to speak on the sadness in a foreign place.
stand silent 80 floors above kaohsiung, a sterile hotel room at your back. watch parisian lovers under an awning escaping the rain in a kiss. run down the charles and wonder why you are again so many miles from home.
i am not speaking of the sadness in familiar places - when you stare at the mug now cold on your kitchen counter or pace the same fluorescent supermarket aisles. banal perpetuity. low-budget indie flick. this sadness in the familiar is closer to devastation, for there is no escape from these spaces.
the sadness i feel far from home is tragic. it is a hero’s pain, hard and full of meaning. there is a sweetness in the loneliness. years ago i was confused when changing location didn’t fix me. now i see, foreign places hold the sadness of being unable to escape myself.
—
april 2024