Paxil Side Effects And Paxil Addiction

Archive for September, 2009

Dear Gwyneth Paltrow,

Dear Gwyneth Paltrow,

This is going to come as a shock to you, I am sure, but I think you and I have missed a very important opportunity in our lives.

A friendship.
You and me.

Your long blond locks, my stubbly face. Your Goop, my tween books. Your fantastic laugh, my searing and sharp wit.

Years ago, I got my hair cut at an extremely trendy salon in the West Village of New York, where very tall, skinny people floated in and out, their hair always perfect, even before their time in the chair. My stylist, an English chap named Zak, was stationed next to the enormous glass windows, It was a monthly treat for me to sit, struggling to understand him and his quips through his thick accent, while watching the urban pastoral happenings of the charming, tree-lined street. Dowagers walking their teeny, outfitted dogs. Boyfriends brushing the hair out of the girlfriends’ eyes. Big, colorful umbrellas populating the sidewalk on rainy days. The quiet peace of snowy New York days.

Once, Zak pointed to a car with his scissors, and said, “That’s Gwyneth’s car.” Struggling through the thickness of his words, water dripping on my shoulders, I asked, controlling my voice, “Gwyneth Paltrow?”

“What? What other Gwyneth is there? Yes!” he said, rolling his eyes at my
naïveté. “She lives just across the road.”

I remained calm. He went on to tell me that he saw you all the time. Walking by. Giggling with friends. Eating ice cream. Just another girl in the West Village.

He had no idea that I truly believed I was missing a vital, important, friendship in my life: Yours. Ours.

I never told him. I’ve never told anyone.

Now, years later, I break my silence. I just think there’s something there. I do. I write children’s books, for Pete’s sake. (Incidentally, who is Pete?)

So, my fantasy future friend, I hope you are well. And that I see you soon.

My love,
Francesco

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