He told me he saw both romanticism and realism in me, a rare polarity that needed to be discovered.
“Excuse me?” What the hell was he talking about?
“Here, there are only three good acting schools in Paris,” he continued, naming all of them. I looked at him, trying to memorize the names of the schools. With my perplexed expression I somehow couldn’t help but believe him.
“You will make a great actor. You’ve just got to find that inner person inside of you. You’ll have to take classes, of course, but then you’ll go to castings and get small roles, then bigger ones.”
“What the hell was this stranger talking to me about?” I thought for the hundredth time in ten minutes. I smiled, unknowing of what to say next.
“You’re a woman but you’re an adolescent at the same time. You’ve come to Paris to find that inner self, to find yourself. No one else. Do away with all those other shallow friends. Follow your heart. You know what’s best for you, and it’s right here in front of you. Right in this city, mademoiselle,” he said in the politest way.
And here I am, at home, googling, debating. To trust a stranger or not? It will go down as one of the oddest yet most inspiring conversations I’ve ever had in my life so far. I think I’m going to have to let this sink in for a while.