Bye. Jacqueline bounced out the door for her daily two-hour run at dawn, fitting right in with the Chamonix-ers in her supercute beanie and de rigueur down puffer. Camille and I then had time to decide the day. We already had walked the town to and fro for many...
Mont Blanc loomed. Icy, craggy, cliffy, with sheer drops unto death from every angle, Chamonix’s local celebrity filled the sky with its drama. We stood at the door of the flat Camille’s friend had leant us for our visit and gazed sans breath at its majesty. “Isn’t it...
In Camille’s Lugano happy place, complete with a splendid lake view, she and Jacqueline sprawled on their shared queen bed with Swiss picnic things arrayed around them like one of Cleopatra’s feasts. Unfamiliar salamis and foreign cheeses were the least of it, with...
It felt slightly kidnapped-like, held in the backseat of Camille’s rental Fiat as we zoomed out of Paris headed south. Camino was happy napping in his travel house, so I was alone with my foreboding that somehow my sister/my captor would convince me to try something...
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