A few days ago, I was pruning the hydrangeas at the front of my house. A few lines from one of her poems kept going around inside my head.
‘Someone touched me lightly on the shoulder
I turned around but they had gone.
Perhaps you are the one I was no longer expecting
And of whom the confused memories
Sometimes disturb the mirror of my dreams.’
Louisa, I am honoured to live in a street named after you, and it is only fair that your old home should be No. 1, rue Louisa Paulin.