BRÈVE | Jean-Baptiste Poquelin dit Molière ➽ https://j.mp/3s9apOs C’est probablement l’auteur de théâtre et le comédien le plus célèbre de l’Histoire de France
These are the last CTJL Paris pictures you’ll see from me. Promise. Cross my heart, hope to die, et cetera et cetera.
Competition day might’ve been at the mercy of a dark and threatening sky, but the team’s trip to Paris wasn’t all misery! Both Agatha and Archie won their respective classes, and the sun even popped out during down time- a nice reward for Poquelin and Zee, who got to spend an afternoon relaxing in the Champs de Mars. Archie was happy to be back in Paris, a place which harbours fond memories of youth; Dot was happy to be in Paris for the first time, let alone at the side of one of her idols. Even Agatha was happy*! She managed to get away from the pair of them for a day.
Travelling with the same two people for several months on end isn’t great when one is an introvert.
(That’s why she’s missing in the last picture, FYI. She’s probably off raiding used-book stores in search of more beautifully bound early editions to add to her collection, or at the Louvre falling in love with the statue of Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss, or sitting incognito with a book at a bistro in Montparnasse simply enjoying some alone time. In case you were wondering.)
*Possibly? It’s Agatha. Can one really be sure?
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Continuing on my quest to finish photo sets + subsequently delete folders + clean out my Tumblr drafts.
Yes yes yes, I do know the relevant event ended literally more than a year ago and you’ve forgotten about it and don’t care anyway. I swear I am sufficiently ashamed of myself. But not enough ashamed of myself to delete it all and forget about it!! My need for closure >>>>> my shame. Always.
Where you can smell the sun and taste the light and the air is heavy with history.
@ctjumpingleague
Believe everything they tell you about Italy. It has its own gravity. Like you can feel the weight of ancient stories and three-thousand summers as you walk.
On a bit of a project-finishing kick lately; hope nobody minds being bombarded with my productivity! It’s unlikely to happen again for a long time, hah.
I did start writing a bit about Agatha & Co.’s adventures in the sunburned country but-
(isn’t there always a ‘but’?)
- the scene I was writing had them out of Sydney and in the bushland. Which was nice, actually: it’s the first time I’ve been able to write about these characters in my homeland, and knowing the setting innately enables a person to worry less about research and details and just let loose, write evocatively of scents and sounds and every manner of sensation experienced countless times over.
The problem with that, however, is that if you’ve ever tried to capture the essence of the Australian bush in The Sims, you’ll be acutely aware it’s... not readily done.
So TL;DR: I thought it’d be weird to pair this writing up with indoor competition shots, but couldn’t make the photos I needed. I’m disappointed, to be honest with you. It involved lurid sunsets and the smell of the bush in summer, Australian slang and the woes of flies and Agatha being hit on by a jackaroo who was probably (definitely) very, very sexy.
Oh well!
Anyway- the last entries of the 2021 season. Thanks for a great year, @ctjumpingleague. <3
(and let’s all pretend the photos aren’t being squished into Tumblr and are displaying as I intended, okay? Okay.)
It is not Agatha’s first time in Los Angeles, and she cannot say she is pleased to be back.
The hub of the so-called ‘Golden State’ is largely grey and brown- leonine yellow at best- and more readily described as dull or drab than gleaming. It is hot and dirty and claustrophobically crowded, filled to the brim with people lacking scruples and manners. Roads heave like strained arteries trying to accommodate the traffic; the air is thick and fetid with smog and haze; thicker still with streams upon streams of ceaseless noise, and the clamour of four million disgruntled voices.
She is unimpressed by the things it most likes to flaunt: the luxury of Beverly Hills is tacky, the beaches of Santa Monica are disappointing, and downtown- bestrewn with gaudy signs and tasteless embellishments, each wrestling the other to be more readily noticed- is an uncomfortable clash of much too much.
That was probably the best way to describe it, Los Angeles. Too much.
Archie is not a stranger to the city either, and the telling look he gave her at the boarding gate when Dot asked them what it was like told her he probably shared her opinions. The question came after a ten minute outpouring of exhilaration: excitement over neon, palm trees, limousines; the sands of Venice Beach and the raking lights of Hollywood; clothes and colours and undiscovered tastes; a city made of summer and stars and dreams.
It’s busy, Agatha finally said.
Very busy, Archie agreed.
Apparently, neither of them had the heart to tell her the entire truth: that it was an unhappy union of overt opulence and impoverishment, that left a perpetual bad taste in the mouth.
GIBBS ISLAND EQUESTRIAN COMPLEX, ST. CLAIRE CITY
11:48 AM
The day started well. The sun came out, the temperature came up, the queue for the Gibbs Island ferry grew longer. Scarves were woven around necks and coffee cups occupied hands. An impressionist's sky of watery blue-greys and barely-there clouds rose through the skyscrapers. Autumn overlaid the city with a shimmer akin to gold leaf.
Agatha was in moderately good spirits. She was in her home city; she had slept well; the coffee at breakfast had been better than usual; she had not had to speak to anyone other than the waiter and a show official all day. The best kind of day. The unexplained absence of her fellow team members might ordinarily have been cause for concern but on this occasion, she could not muster it up within herself to care. She felt no guilt in admitting how liberating it felt to have Archie and Dot out of her hair. Let them push their respective problems upon someone else for a change. Poquelin was warmed up and moving well and she liked the lay of the course. She had enjoyed herself so far and she would prefer she continue to do so. For that, their absences would be key.
Agatha rode into the ring with the slightest of smiles, imagining an idyllic afternoon of fast rounds, sunlit walks along the water, and the distinct absence of people.
Maybe that was the wicked thought which summoned karma back to humble her.
---------
'She rode that rather well.'
'Yes.'
'And a lovely mover, that horse. I wouldn't mind a ride. A pleasure to watch.'
'Mhm.'
'Bit different to your-'
'Do you really want to start down this road?'
'W-'
'Think hard, Archie.'
'Differently gifted, that is. That fellow is gifted in movement, speed, grace- all the unimportant things in show jumping, you know-'
'I'm not interested in your sarcasm.'
'-whereas your Poquelin is phenomenally gifted in his ability to surpass all other horses when it comes to being the absolute worst behaved horse in the ring on the day.'
'He's not the worst behaved horse-'
'No? Let's ask the prints I'll be ordering promptly from the event photographer.'
His expression was equal parts mirth and mock-scepticism. Agatha pursed her lips and turned back to watch the next rider canter into the ring.
'He's not the worst. He's just the least best.'
