February 2026 List
Hawthorn bloom, terraces and other quiet victories
At least three nights a week, over the span of seven years, I used to hang out in a bar called Bottleshop. The bar still exists and I still sometimes, although rarely, go there to meet one of the old bar flies during daytime hours for a good ol’ chat and a good coffee. That bar was part of my identity and no matter what happened during any given night (and a lot of things were happening back in those years), the softest and most comfortable part of the night was a slow walk back home under the dark Parisian night dome.
Last night I went to celebrate my friend’s birthday around the Rue Montorgueil area and every year, for this occasion, a big crowd of mostly Central European folks gathers. And laughs. The jokes and voices are rougher, faces more accentuated and everything is a bit more straightforward - and I miss my friends from back home just a tiny bit more. It took me years to understand what it is that I like so much about her dinner parties and this year it finally hit me: it’s the identity - that unerasable part of you, deep down, that transcends worlds but in certain environments feels completely at home. Erika’s birthdays feel like home.
I decided to walk part of the way home to clear my head. It was the first soft night of the year. I didn’t have to wear a beanie and my soft wool scarf almost felt like too much. I was reminded that I’ve grown older, that I used to take these night walks home very often quite a long time ago, and yet that some things never change: the cafés on Rue de Bretagne are still full even on a random Tuesday evening, the Bastille column is still the prettiest monument at night, and the light of the Eiffel Tower is always above your head, no matter what - no matter how you feel. Everything felt reassuring for a long moment.
Here are the things that made me happy this February, a round little month that smelled of wonderful (yet genetically modified) daffodils, pu-erh tea and dinners with friends. I write these lists every month, it’s helpful, it feels grounding and humbling:
The first hawthorn flowers in the Bois and magnolia trees next to the Louvre.
This restaurant and an invitation from my friend (and client) Zoe — everything was delicious.
I’ve been working a lot on the illustrations for the children’s book about the power of languages. The second round of sketches is almost done and I’m getting more and more excited. Here is one of the spreads:
This short video about the life of Cézanne. I had no idea he was best friends with Zola (and then fell out with him because Zola may have based a novel on him - and they never spoke again).
The first coffee in the sun on our balcony.
Creating an illustrated guide to Toulouse.
Birdwatching in the Bois de Vincennes on a rainy day — there are far fewer people, so logically you see many more birds.
Continuing my drawing and painting practice every day for a whole month. I used markers this month and it was a very interesting experiment. You can watch the first part of the month here. It also became a great base for the gouache paintings I create from these sketches.
Researching and drawing Rue Mouffetard. I especially love the animation part of the process.
The Left Bank library tour that I created a couple of months ago and then polished for a client (and now friend) who knows Paris very well.
I drew Brussels for a guidebook! Cannot show it just yet!
We watched an excellent Spanish series and then a film with the same actor.
Pekka Halonen’s exhibition at the Petit Palais - one of the most delightful things I’ve seen in recent years. It was simply enchanting.
Finished a couple of short books as research for a bigger project (more about that soon in the newsletter for paid subscribers), and also a book about running and writing that is actually about life. I really enjoyed reading it.
I sat in the park behind Sacré-Cœur and read a book. I rarely have time for that, but I was waiting for friends and it was all very simple and very nice.
And that’s it. Tomorrow is March - the month when spring begins. I wish you many unexpected pink tones, encouraging friends, and warm terraces in the sun.
Merci, merci, merci for being here.
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I love seeing your artwork. The flappers are fabulous!