Geneva: Rue des Magnolias

Geneva I am walking past the cows in Chambésy when I encounter her. She engages me in conversation and is very patient with my struggles to express myself in French. She says “Mon mari est au ciel.”

Faced with a danger that poses a risk to myself and everyone else in the van, I am unable to act. She urges me to keep talking to him, to keep his mind engaged. Then, exasperated, she takes control of the situation, displacing me and ensuring safety and survival for all of us.

I wash my laundry in the bathtub and then use a portable drying rack to dry the clothes outdoors. The owner of the house, who I’ve never met, not only moves the rack out of sight but ties it down to prevent me from moving it again. My laundry will not be seen by those passing by on rue des Magnolias, nor will it be seen by the sun.

He has a deeply spiritual relationship with music. He tells me that he has listened to John Coltrane for years but only recently understood what Coltrane was about. Now he listens to Coltrane as if for the first time.