On love II (Fragile Beauty)

Earlier this month, I went to see the Fragile Beauty exhibition at the Jeu de Paume museum. The exhibition features selected pieces of Elton John and David Furnish’s personal photography collection. The exhibition takes you through raw and seldomly seen viewpoint of various movements that shaped John and Furnish’s lives: underground gay and drag communities around the world, the US civil rights movement, US political violence, what the curator called modern reporting — modern civil rights protests, California wildfires, 9/11, January 6, Syria, Ukraine, Gaza — and celebrities and friends of John and Furnish.

In the largest part of the exhibition, the curator juxtaposes love in its many forms — platonic, sexual, familial, self — and in a way, it reminded me of my friendships that sometimes dance between various forms of love.

A scanned postcard from the Fragile Beauty exhibition, Elton John: Egg On His Face, David LaChapelle, 1999

My closest friends and I always call each other traditionally romantic names. Take, for example, my best friend; what started as being called secret lovers by a toxic ex slowly turned into late-night i-love-yous and calling each other my love. Born out of emotional necessity rather than romantic desire, it is probably what allowed me to feel comfortable exploring and experiencing love in my friendships. My friends and I often call each other love, beloved, beautiful/handsome in endearing ways.

A French woman with whom I used to work formed a bond with me over the shared frustrations of our previous workplace. When working together, I was told we would often resemble a married couple in the ways we would get frustrated over each other’s small faults and inability to be on time, or even for being too early, but still work wonderfully together. Unsure when or how it came about, we started calling each other mon amour. It was almost like a light thought during frustrating workplace politics. While texting her earlier this month, she called me ma vie (en: my life). This one stuck with me enough to lie motionless staring at the ceiling after finishing our conversation.

I have never really seen the phrase ‘my life’ be used in this manner in English. Maybe because in English-speaking societies, we associate someone’s livelihood with more factors than a single human being. Associating one person, especially at my age, in my ‘home continent,’ as your living and your dying is almost too heavy a responsibility. Though I don’t necessarily see it as that. My friends, as a whole, are my sunshine; my friends are my living and my dying.

For me, friends are no different from family. Not that I confuse the line between the two; to me, they are one. What we call a family is just strangers bound together by love. What we call a friendship is just strangers bound together by love. Different types of love, but love nonetheless. My family is my living and my dying.

Happy Adventuring,

Ahmed

Things I’m Enjoying

Five Simple Steps to Greater Joy in this World of Sorrow by Wayne Alan Brenner: A short read sent to me by a penpal in Saskatoon. It is a lovely read with your morning coffee/tea or at a cafe, and it finishes by commanding you to pass the pamphlet on to the next person you see, whoever it may be or wherever that may be. You can order some copies by contacting the author directly.

The Postal Paths by Alan Cleaver: This lovely read was written by a journalist in an attempt to document the various footpaths walked by British ‘posties’ before the use of cars for postal delivery in the UK. Rather than documenting each pathway, Alan documents the stories behind the pathways, detailing the lives of posties and even interviewing some of the few that are still alive.

My favourite pen: was discontinued maybe 10 years ago in Canada, and I rediscovered it in France shortly before they stopped selling them in France. Muji has recently started selling them in Canada again, and so you bet I will be buying a few of them again so I can use up my stock of refills and enjoy writing again. This time, I’ll be sure not to use them to open letters and accidentally snap them in half.

Cherry Clafoutis

One of the most iconic French desserts in the summer. We are in peak cherry season, so I feel like I see these everywhere. I even have them on one of the menus at work at the moment. Perfect served warm from the oven with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.