Billie Holiday
To read with soda water, lime, blackberry and habanero on ice
She smelt his scent on the pillow when she woke up. He had left a few hours earlier. To another country, and another show. She had the feeling that she was living in episodes, the same way you follow a series. People come and go according to the plot. Except that here, it was her life at stake, and she didn’t have the patience to wait for the next season.
She wandered most part of the morning, unable to make up her mind to prepare and go out. She sat by the window with a coffee and felt the cold air filling the room. The veil of her dressing gown blew up as she was thinking about going for a walk on the Plateau Mont-Royal, to visit some good record shops. He always used and abused superlatives that camed with his enthusiasm ; this movie was transcendent and that book was definitely superb. “I don’t trust musicians” she told him once. He replied : “Neither do I”.
She lit up a cigarette, grabbed the Lady In Satin vinyl and put it on the turntable. Billie Holiday had always been there for her.
