Lost and Found x My Night in Nantes

Lost and Found

Braeden Ross

My Night in Nantes

To all those who care too much, don't panic, just get lost.

For K.

Nantes had a sky that put me in wonder. Wonder of what else the world stuffed away for me. The French wind swirled in ease as various travelers and locals waltzed through the streets below on their way back to their beds. The Chateau echoed its royal history through the bumpy streets. My days spent dreaming and scheming in the medieval romantic atmosphere of La Cigale seemed to mold themselves into my current emptiness and realization that I had no idea what I was doing. The mimes who spent their days restlessly trying to entertain in the streets had gone to rest, and all that was left was the swirling moonlit sky to lay its calming blanket over the city and the rest of the world. Patches of dim light illuminated my view of the city, which had a patient way, nothing like the hustling and bustling of New York or Tokyo as the flow of its rivers remained invisible yet ever so present. Maybe that is why I loved it so much.

In this age running away was heroic, a bold “fuck you” to the past world of conformity and systematic lifestyle. I’d never go back, yet I longed to. It was in these few hours of a brisk summer night in Nantes where I proved me to myself, and all the oceans of wasted time and memories landed me in the place I needed to be, I just let Nantes take me there.

            Vagabonding was an art I nearly mastered. Wandering aimlessly through lands untold to me had been a personal dream of mine. Nonetheless living out ones dreams never truly soothes the soul. The ache of missing out pitched deep through my mind every day, I wished to have one glance at my home, to see where everyone landed, what they were doing, and who had resumed the love I gave up on by running off in a moments spur.

            The Place Royale looked beautiful on a clear night like this. Glancing from the balcony of my rickety one-star hotel, the lights danced with happiness and a serene hum of assurance. Deep in thought, the chills of a crisp night breeze failed to jar me, but a gentle knock on the door sent my head in what felt like a full spin.

            “It’s open,” I said in a state of calm that went unmatched with my edgy mood. Vagabonding put me into a constant state of nerve, its severity fluctuated, but it always remained there, buried in the back of my mind. Although I knew exactly who was at my door due to the knock, the questions still swirled “Did they find me again? Will I have to jump off another balcony? Make another daunting escape?”

            A woman, with messy, brunette hair, wearing an elegantly subtle sundress walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. Tattoos decorated her forearms and right shoulder, from what I could see. The dress coiled and twined around her loosely yet defined her curves evermore. Gleaming, moon-like eyes shouted memories of a past love of mine as she greeted me with calming pleasantness.

            “Hello,” she started, calm as ever. “I am Jonji,”

            She spoke in a blend of accents that I could not possibly describe in words.

            “Oh hello, please, um, have a seat, there’s wine over there,” I could barely hide my nerves. I was a natural over-thinker and could never quite help it, a blessing yet a disease, I got anxious at the thought of being with this woman.

            “Pas de nom?” she asked. No name? She walked over to my side on the balcony and lit a cigarette.

            I stumbled in trying to remember the name on my fake ID. “Oh, um, names James, James Lennox,”