the heiress of nothing
These white truffles cost me a goddamn fortune. 
Filed under:

it will always stop raining
There is only way to walk, with your head up, your shoulders strong, like you are exactly where you are supposed to be.
Filed under:

I wasn’t expecting to cry.

I laid a stake in theses cobbled streets the way an astronaut plants a flag on the moon.

Look at you Sarah, look at how you’ve grown: thick-skinned, silver tinsel in your hair, money just numbers floating in the air.  

A temporary installation.
A temporary summer.
A temporary life. 
Filed under:
poetry, paris, portraits

foiled first encounters
“Then why do you write?”

I write because I am very clumsy when I speak... as these encounters increasingly reveal.

Read more
Filed under:
loveparis, portraits

m(a)y thoughts

And yet - there’s something so twisted and cynical about the American identity that I could never accept these bon appétit’s at face value, as a celebration of food for the love of food. Rather, I always interpreted these bon appétit’s directed at me on a park bench as code for, “You should be sitting at a table, you idiot.”

Read more
Filed under:
paris, france, america © 2022
(there are other sarah rose’s, but this is the new one)