Spotify Playlist for the book: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6LJo1Vxye2BGPnSpJ5Te7d?si=bc456cb3fa984fd4

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xxii. the enlightenment; siècle des lumières

" — A movement that happened after the great Renaissance. The Age of Enlightenment was an intellectual and philosophical movement that dominated the world of ideas in Europe. This was the future after the renaissance period."

[ bach - brandenburg concerto no. 3 in g major ]

timeframe ; 2023

JEN.

It was a hectic working day for me. The jolly sun was too high up, that I disliked the idea of its rays touching my skin. I just got out from my desk and I was outside the street waiting for my chauffeur to arrive.

"Where's Cole?" I grouched as I snap my fingers at my secretary who was unpleasantly slouching while carrying all of my documents and I could only do so much for her fashion sense.

"He's in Greenwich Village, Miss Kim. You've instructed him to check out the company we've just bought." She stuttered too much that it made me more irritated. Ugh.

"Good. Text him that I'll be arriving there soon." I demanded as I saw her pulling up her phone and uneasily did her task under her thick eye glasses.

I rolled my eyes and thought. Could any other humans do better than me? Guess not.

"Oh, I forgot. Dial my fiancé for me." I quickly prompted, I forgot to tell Lisa that we were having a dinner date tonight. I need to inform her ahead since she's been a busy lady too. With this, my secretary handed me the phone right away.

"Hello. This is Lisa's Secretary speaking. Miss Manoban is sti-"

"Lisa. Now."

"Oh, my apologies Miss Kim but she's a bi-"

"LISA. NOW."

"Ah-uh. O-okay. I'll tell her right away." I heard her voice becoming nervously weak as it trailed off.

I groaned in impatience, I've told her enough times to not leave her phone to her secretary, but does she listen? No.

"Hey, babe. We're preparing for the shoot." Her delightful voice instantly diminished all of my pre-existing annoyance for the day and maybe for the next of the week too. She is the spark of glee that I need or I could've fired half of my employees already if she's not here controlling my fury.

"I'm thinking about dinner for tonight. Are you down, love?" I pressed an invite.

"Yeah if you promise me not to the soul out of my secretary every time you call."

"She's a communication barrier you know?" I scowled.

"She's doing her job, Jen." My fiancé deadpanned.

"Yeah, whatever i still don't like her."

"I'm not firing her just because of your opinion, Miss Kim." A nonchalant Manoban was the reply I received.

"Since when do you compromise for me?"

"Uh-"

"Exactly." I said, then I heard her light chuckle on the other light as both of us felt amused.

"So, dinner?" Lisa prompted.

Jen nods, "Yeah, I'll come pick you up."

"Okay, I'll be going now."

"I love you." I uttered as I felt my cheeks go warm.

She took a second before responding, "I love you, my Kim."

You hear that? That's what home sounds like. I internally gushed over the thought as I entered the car and traveled to Greenwich Village.

...

The drive was so unproductively long that I had enough time to sort out my reports for the upcoming week. I even had the time to call Jisoo who was at Monaco spending her fortune. Although I'm always used to have her as the pesky best friend that I have. I'm just glad that she approved of Lisa, considering her impeccable taste. See how much you can do under a 45 minute venture. 

Before visiting Lisa's outdoor magazine shooting, I came across a small coffee shop resting in between two large buildings. The brewing aroma caught my senses quickly so I knew I had to enter that place. Inside felt formidably different, the ambiance was settling, and the sun just gave enough light to make the place warm.

There were wooden french tables and chairs coated in lament turquoise, hanging decorative garden pots at the ceiling, two framed white window panes, small to medium size paintings complimented the palette patterned wallpapers and the counter was like a homely kitchen of a family of ten.

But much to interest, I have put mine into a certain painting.

"Here for coffee?" A bright voice fiddled me from my attention, and as I turned my eyes to the counter, I saw an old lady, probably on her 50s, wiping her petulant mugs on her hands as she wears a welcoming smile. She must be the owner, I thought as I approached her.

"Yes. I would like a hot cappuccino, please." I quickly said. She nodded in response as she kept herself busy again inside the counter, preparing my drink.

"Are you new here, darling?" She then asked, probably wanting a gaily conversation with me.

"Kind of. I don't visit Greenwich that much since I'm from New York." I answered as I found myself tipping off my fingers, surprisingly agitated at the moment. "I-I'm Jen by the way." I frontally introduced myself.

"Is that so?" The lady tilted her head on the side as she shot a dubious look at me, like she wasn't feeling unfamiliarity. Her eyes kneaded mine, evidently observing me.

"Well, you can call me Ella, dear." She then responded. "And where I've come from is farther than yours." She her head and chuckled in amusement.

My eyebrows snapped in curiosity, "Oh, where are you from then?"

"Deauville. France. Well, it's been twenty years since I went back there." She revealed.

"What made you stay here?" I continued to interrogate.

She paused as she took a long second to look at me and sheepishly smile, "I had to wait for someone. Just to make sure that what I've been believing as a kid was true."

"What a strong belief." I injected with animosity.

"Well, my parents taught me convincing fairytales." She supported her thought.

"Have you met that someone already?"

"I'm uncertain, but i feel like i have." Her orbs dilated in a way that was intimidating me and I was very foreign to that.

"Can I ask you about something?" I clasped my hands together. Hoping she would agree. "Anything, Jen." She gladly nodded.

"Do you know those people from that painting?" I muttered as I pointed my index finger to the wall across our view. There stood the painting that boggled my mind.

There was a silent pause from her, like she was hesitant, but eventually I heard her answer. "Oh, them? You can say they're the women that brought Greenwich Village to the epitome of its society."

"What do you mean?"

"The richest and most influential elites of the golden decade. They helped reach the renaissance of the local art, music, and culture that the village needed at that time."Ella stated with a b smile. "That was originally a 1965 photograph, but my mother painted that in canvas." 

"Is your mother there? The one who painted it?"

"She's right there, sitting with her chin on her hand. She looks intimidating there but that's just her character facade." She huffed off a light giggle probably meddling a reminiscence.

"How about your father?" I continued my questions.

"Oh no. My mother loved a woman. See that lady with the beret above? They both adopted me and raised me together."

"That's amazing, Ella. I'm getting married to a woman, too. It's good to see people from the past still loved who they loved. Amidst the bickering society." I dwelled my appreciation.

"Oh those two love birds were so stubborn that the universe had no choice but to let them be together."

"Funny how I've never heard of them. They seem to be important people in the society."

"Well maybe history intended them to be on the outskirts. Like an unspoken revolt. Burried to protect the wellness of the future. That's what my mom used to say. People live by to serve their purpose, and align the intended fate, regardless if the world has known them or not."

"Should I suppose to know them?"

"Not necessarily, sweetie. They're just portraits now. Let them stay that way. Just a remembrance of a memory." She confided.

"All of your portraits here are beautiful though. Did your mother painted them all?"

"Yes. She spend all the time in the world in creating all of her paintings."

"I wish I could display one in my home. I just genuinely think that it would suit the ambiance of my house. I may not be a gifted painter nor am I in such industry, but I appreciate art a lot, I collect some of them actually."

"If you'd like, my mother has stored all of her unmoved paintings at that studio across the street." She then handed me a rugged silver key. That etched a J in the middle. "You can pick one there, I'll give it to you." She pressed an offer. Too generous of an offer.

"Are you sure?" As doubtful as I was her smile in respond made the assurance.

"I feel like you are the right person to have one of them. I think my mother would agree so." She stated.

"Oh, I highly appreciate it. Thank you. I'm very grateful. And I'm very good at receiving free things so I won't decline your free of charge offer." Shamelessly I obliged and got the key in the palm of my hand, with a b excitement nozzled up down my stomach.

I can't wait to tell Lisa about this!

LISA.

The sun was tightly up in the sky, demanding to recognize its succumbing heat just like New York waking up to its hustling streets and preoccupied people. I'm in Greenwich, tallying up my luck into this gigantic DSLR of mine as I find myself struggling to get the dimension of the focus lens right. I'm still new to this technology the least thing they can do is to give me patience for compensation, but I have no convenience of such right now. The producer is blabbering at the horrible model that they've got for the cover and he's demanding me to take probably a hundred shots per second whilst moving around in such a claustrophobic area like it was the easiest thing in the world. Safe to say, this shoot .

"Let's take 5, shall we?" I prompted as I felt the weight of my camera hanging on my shoulders. "But we haven't got the perfect shot yet? We'll waste time and productivity, Manoban." The man with the insignificant beard complained. "Look at her. She's exhausted, we've been out in the sun for 2 hours straight. She can't execute well if you let her stay like that." I pointed out as my palm directed to the model's direction.

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