On Flattery

When you say 'you're beautiful,' I don't believe you. When you say 'you're amazing,' I try and swallow my doubt. I return a placid smile and blank eyes.

And it's not because I don't know these things are true (because sometimes I do).

And it's not because I'm incredibly insecure (although sometimes I am).

I know you haven't been around long enough to have learned the bones and guts and blood of it. It is just an idea of me that you want to hold. It is just the possibility.

I return a placid smile, because I know how dangerous your sweetness could be. I know how easy it could be to slip into relying on your words and validation. And what a fleeting and intangible thing that is to rely on.

Foriegner

"Aren't your feet cold?" He asks the first day he sees me. For the first time this week someone is speaking to me in English and instead of Dutch.

I look down at my bare toes, and realize I haven't seen anyone else in this whole town who's wearing sandals. Apparently that's not the thing to do in the Netherlands in the Fall.

"No, not really" I say, smiling and shrugging at him.

His eyebrows knit together in look of disbelief, but he doesn't say anything else - just hands the frites I ordered over the counter of his food truck. It's parked right by the hall our exhibition is in, so I find myself ducking out there almost every day the rest of the trip. 
 
The next day he greets me, "Oh, the girl with the cold feet!"

This time I just smile, feeling the warmth of being known when everything around me is foriegn, "Yes,that's me" I say, smiling, "Can I have some frites? With mayonnaise, please?"