dans la brume

8

La brume dans mes Lunettes

Location:  378 Rue Saint-Zotique E

Metro station: Beaubien

Hello friends ♡ It’s certainly been a while since I’ve written on this blog… I apologize for that - I’ve been caught up with school and midterms, but I tried my best to update my Instagram at least (IG: legendoftamar). 

I come back to talk about one of my all time favorite coffee shops in Montreal. I’ve been saving this one because it’s not only one of the best I’ve gone to, but it also holds a special place in my heart. 

Let’s take ourselves back about a few months ago. On a cold November morning. Fall had just given in to an overwhelming snow storm, introducing winter to Montreal. When the first snowfall hits Montreal, a lot changes in the city. People get angrier, drivers forget how to drive, students arrive to school an hour into their lecture, the bus system gets suspended; basically, everyone loses their mind. Including me. 

I woke up that morning in a bad mood. I was in a bad mood not because of the snow. I was in a bad mood every morning. To understand why, we have to take ourselves back to many other moments of my life and frankly we don’t have time to relive so much of the past. Long story short, I have anxiety. And at that point of my life, it was taking over. I couldn’t deal with it and I didn’t want to deal with it and instead I woke up every morning in a miserable mood. I put on my makeup and put on my smile and went on with my day. But this morning, something in me changed. Maybe it was the snow that made me go insane. 

I was determined to go to a cafe before school. To leave the stress behind for a few hours. To runaway to a place I felt comfortable and at ease. I decided to take an earlier bus to the metro and make it to a cafe I had been wanting to go for so long. And where does the insanity come into play? The coffee shop was a good 10 minute walk away from the metro station. A 10 minute walk in a snow storm. In Montreal. Not Vancouver - where their snowstorm is basically 3 snowflakes per hour. It was pouring and the wind was insane but I still did it. The snow made me lose my rational thinking, but sometimes it’s good to be illogical and just go for it. I was the only one walking on the streets. My motivation impressed me. However, I should mention that I also forgot to save the route to the shop since I didn’t have cellphone data. I walked up and down streets like a lost little pigeon.. in a  middle of a snowstorm… but I found the place eventually. You couldn’t imagine my happiness when I saw “La Brume” through my snow-covered glasses.

As I was going in, I thought how lucky I was going to be to have the whole place to myself since no one else is as crazy as me to go out on a day like this. But when I opened the door, I realized the cafe was packed. To almost its limit. I could hear laughter, coffee brewing, milk being steamed, keyboard typing. I could smell freshly made pastries and fresh coffee. And the coffee shop scene I was witnessing - of baristas running around, students working and friends talking - was beautiful. Coming in from an almost deserted winter storm, where only the snowflakes dared to dance in the wind, I was greeted with warmth and people. The barista spotted me in the crowd of people and said hello from behind his counter. Sitting down in a little corner on the bar by the window, I looked around and all I could feel was happiness. Coffee lovers’ passion for coffee and company is contagious. I caught myself smiling and it wasn’t part of the make up this time. This was better than having the place to myself. 

This shop really does live up to its name. “La Brume dans mes Lunettes” means “fog in my glasses” in French. All their windows were fogged up, which gave the shop a gorgeous feel and isolated the cafe from the cold scene of the winter storm. My actual glasses did fog up also when I came in, so bonus points for that! I also realized the cafe had a little corner for an individual seating by two windows which was probably their best seat. Maybe I’ll get it next time. The walls were covered with interest art and decorations. Their main aesthetic was wooden. It was an overall beautiful cafe.

I spent an hour pretending to read my Differential Equations notes, but really all I was doing was taking pictures of my latte. But it made me happy. And sometimes, that’s all that matters. Sometimes you have to treat yourself to a beautiful moment - outside of school, outside of routine, or just outside, in a snowstorm.. It’s important to take some time to regenerate. If you’ve been going through a tough time - may it be for a few years or a few days - and you suddenly get the urge to spoil yourself by running away from reality for a little bit, do it. If you’ve been working hard to try to figure out life and doing your best to be your best, then you deserve having moments that make you happy. Getting out of your usual cycle can make you see life in a different way and put a lot in perspective. In my case, it allowed me to stop. Take a breath. Freeze in the cold. Rethink. Regenerate. And decide. Decide that I wanted to be happy. Decide that I wanted to stop being a slave to my anxiety and start learning to deal with it.

[LISTEN]

1. Dans la brume - César Cui [The Orphanage of Keramzin]
2. Berceuse “Dors petet gars” - César Cui [Alina Starkov]
3
. Kastchei’s Enchanted Garden - Stravinski [The Darkling]
4.
In The Steppes of Central Asia - Borodin [Malyen Oretsev]
5. Dance of the Oprichniki - Prokofiev [The Grisha]
6. Night on Bald Mountain - Mussorgsky [The Unsea]
7.
The Firebird: Infernal Dance of All Kasthchei Subjects - Stravinski [Volcra]
8. The Swan - Prokofiev [The Sun Summoner]
9. March of the Young Ivan - Prokofiev [The Little Palace]
10.
Waltz of the Flowers - Tchaikovsky [The Grand Palace]
11.
The Temptress - Prokofiev [Genya]
12. String Quartet No. 11 in F Minor, Op 122: Elegie - Shostakovich [Baghra]
13.
Swan Lake Op. 20 Scene Moderato - Tchaikovsky [The Morozova Stag]
14.
Jazz Suite No.1 Foxtrot - Shostakovich [Sturmhold]
15.
Jazz Suite No.2 Waltz II - Shostakovich [Nikolai Lantsov]
16.
Korol’ Lir: Overture - Balakirev [The Sea Whip]
17.
Uvertyura na temi tryokh russkikh pesen - Balakirev [The Firebird]
18.
Danila In Search of the Flower - Prokofiev [Heartrenders]
19. String Quartet No.2 in D: Notturno - Borodin [Healers]
20.
Flight of the Bumblebee - Rimsky-Korsakov [Squallers]
21.
The Snow Maiden Introduction - Rimsky-Korsakov [Tidemakers]
22.
The Holy Fool - Prokofiev [Inferni]
23.
The Nutcracker: March - Tchaikovsky [Durast]
24.
Dance of the Swans: Allegro - Tchaikovsky [Alkemi]
25. The Sleeping Beauty Waltz - Tchaikovsky [Tailors]
26. The Lark - Glinka [Sankt Ilya]
27.
Vocalise Op 34, No 14 - Rachmaninoff [Aleksander Morozova]

Le corbeau est devenu, pour moi, un fait littéraire et c'est cela que je nomme le désespoir

LÉO FERRÉ, Introduction à l’anarchie (extrait), Les Chants de la fureur, page 702..: Sans mot pour le nommer il n'y a pas d'arbre…Sans le mot “arbre”, toute une tranche de ma connaissance s'évanouit : je ne vois plus de forêts, je ne sais plus m'y promener, je perds le feu et, perdant le feu, mon sang se fige, je suis perdu à tout jamais. J'entends bien le désespoir me sonner dans la brume de cette constatation. Je ne parle plus. Je ne vois plus les nids, le recommencement total à chaque fois des mêmes vols, des mêmes cris, des mêmes chants. Sans arbre, où se nicheront les oiseaux ? Quand je les vois voler, pourquoi ne puis-je plus penser au mouvement des ailes, à cette géométrie apprise et que je retrouve dans le vol du corbeau, encore que, croassant, il inquiète les données magiques, apprises elles aussi ?…                                                                                                                                                   …Le corbeau est devenu, pour moi, un fait littéraire et c'est cela que je nomme le désespoir. Je ne sais plus voir le corvidé. Je vois une forme allusive du destin et sa résonance littéraire ou poétique…

Le vide n'a jamais été aussi plein

Et j'y repense tous les jours Comme si on s'etait aimé Et j'avale toujours la même fumée J'déambule malsaine dans la brume À croire qu'elle peut m'guider J’m e racroche à des bribes de pensées ivres d'espoir A defaut d'gloire, j’t'itube, je hurle J'ecarquille les yeux dans l'noir Me amor j'suis amère J'respire plus tu m'disais Me amor regarde la mer T'sais la vie, t'sais le temps, t'sais nous, Tu vois le tout, à l'échelle atomique chaque plus petite particule est pratiquement vide Ton regard à brûlé mon âme Ton absence à tué les émotions Et j'ai la sale certitude que le vide n'a jamais été aussi plein.

Je marchais sur la route de mon âme
Je marchais vers le flot de mes peines
Je marchais sur le chemin de ma douleur,
A la rencontre de mon être.
Dans la brume du matin
Lorsque s’ouvrait la gerbe de maïs
Et que tombait la rosée
A l’aube de la pleine matinée
Lorsque se formait la boule rose
A l’endroit où ciel et terre semblent se toucher
Au réveil des pies féeriques
Quand s’élevaient les voix des chrétiens vers les cieux
Et que raisonnait l’angélus dans les chapelles
Lorsque s’ouvraient les pétales des fleurs
Et que les gerçait le vent
Lorsque mon corps sortait de l’engourdissement nocturne
Et que ma marmite bouillante s’accouplait avec mon esprit moribond
Le pas léger et les gestes fébriles
Je marchais vers le flot de mes peines
A la rencontre de mon être.
A un détour du chemin je le croisai
Il me tint par la main et me conta :
Je suis la coque roulante l’épais brouillard
Qui voile l’entrée de ton être
Je suis la folle avoine du champ qu’a cultivée ta mère
Je suis la joie furtive
Le sourire amère
Les sombres matinées de pleurs
De terreur
D’erreur
De malheur
Les pâles couchers de soleil de soupirs
De durs souvenirs
De brumeux avenirs
De vains repentirs
Les douloureux levers de soleil d’inquiétude
De lassitude
De quémande de mansuétude
A Celui qui promet les béatitudes…
Je suis le mort qui fait sa propre veillée.
Je suis le gris-gris à la force anéantie
Je suis la rame à la puissance affaiblie
Je suis la mine boudeuse
Les envies dédaigneuses
La morsure venimeuse
Je suis la nuit houleuse de baisers
La femme que nul homme ne peut caser.
Je suis le roc séculaire
Je suis sans force musculaire
Je suis les mânes des ancêtres réincarnés
Je suis les yeux de l’au-delà et même leur nez
Je suis une hors-la loi
Je suis une sans foi
Un séide de l’absolu
J’ai grossi les coups de bâton.
Je suis parfois aussi vulgaire qu’une putain
Mais serviable comme un bon samaritain…

Et maintenant,
Je ronge de songe ma vie d’éponge
Je danse la danse des sens en transe
Je marche sur les marches de l’arche des patriarches
Je mange les anges des âges sages
Et je danse la danse des sens en transe.
Et mon être me disait :
J’aligne les roulis de mes lits avant le midi de ma vie
J’anime mes nuits des cris venant des nids de hiboux
Je décime les cimes de la gloire de cygnes sans soucis
Et j’aligne les roulis de mes lits avant le midi de ma vie
J’assiste à la maison des gazons
Je dors sur la toison des boissons
J’ovationne les matrones qui désillusionnent
Et j’assiste à la moisson des gazons
Et j’attends patiemment le jour de mon déferrement.

- A R Aboyoyo Aboyoyo - Face à face