![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ZvkucrA8RgdXGSbtsuqxFqOR4ogELo9mdNT9RaPQx4-s6AcVgMmKUF0I7HGuCpb7NcUOu0npkxD07mHEpdTk4uyjM85CHzvgydMxl5ZgvQWP1NycAgulFc8dY8rCpXSv59hylRopYg/s400/IMG_4265.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzn6BuS6-Of0dNVVRT-ivb7W873BZqtmasQt_UfiEty133iMQgAo440BUkt6jPn8O0_vZmWK8zAvJsoMr6PAeleNgpz3VIDnIRrSBHxEUXh5aY6-57bBEjR9uPNKk7WmfUUj3HqmgyA/s400/Kinga+Rajzak+at+the+Sonya+Rykiel+spring+2008+show.jpg)
Parisian Love affair...
“Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.”
—Sylvia Plath, from Tulips (published in Ariel; Faber & Faber, 1965)