by Sarah Knowles
Introduction by Joanna Boody
In 2006, my best friend Sarah Lynn Knowles and I decided to go to France over Thanksgiving to visit a friend of mine. He offered to host us for free in his small flat within the Montmartre neighborhood in Paris, and it seemed like the perfect escape from New York City, our asshole ex-boyfriends, and our usual family holidays. But as we learned through this experience, there isn’t such a thing as the perfect escape.
First of all, it poured rain the whole week. The first night we got overly tipsy on jet lag and wine and quickly found out our host was not as welcoming as he'd previously seemed (without added detail, a huge understatement). It felt wrong to be in Paris and feel miserable, but it was happening. I felt grateful for the opportunity to roam the historic city, but beneath the clouds, drenching rain, and thick air of resentment I still felt trapped.
All three of us were fighting and felt like shit. For a week, I lived off white wine and cigarettes. I remember trying to stay as positive as I could, and then privately calling my Dad from a payphone to cry like a child. I worked hard to simply soak in the details of what I was going through, knowing that no matter what, this experience would shape me for the better somehow.
The following photographs are from a journal Sarah kept during the trip. Our feelings regarding the same experience aren't identical, of course, but these snapshots of her hand-written journal portray a personalized, artistic expression of our shared experience. These snippets brought forth a lot of memories of moments, and I am grateful she shared the trip and these photographs with me.
