The following is a new extended narrative and timeline that I have crafted into my past life as a young woman in Prague and Paris. – I share this version with you, as it provides a clear example of what’s possible when creating an extended story for a past life that needs some tender loving care and a new timeline.

It was a world where unrest hung heavy in the air, A train journey marked a change, a path we’d share. Engaged for six months, my Beloved and I, Dreaming of a life in Prague or town nearby.

Closer to the station, the crowds began to swarm, Fearing for their future, in the chaos and storm. We stepped off the train, a sea of people deep, Contemplating our next steps, a promise to keep.

An older woman, draped in black taffeta and lace bonnet, Approached with urgency, a mission upon it. A wallet, notes neatly placed, she handed with care, “Give this to Rebecca,” her plea filled the air.

“See the child with blonde curls, the blue coat so fine, Give this to the woman, named Rebecca, in line.” My Beloved dashed away, a promise to fulfill, As the crowd surged forward, a chaotic, wild shrill.

“Go, I’ll wait here,” I said with despair, As the next train loomed, more people to bear. He ran down the platform, a figure in the tide, Then, a wave of chaos, and he was taken, no place to hide.

His head and arms above the crowd, a final wave, Frozen, overwhelmed, alone, his absence to crave. The train departed, hope dwindling with its steam, Alone in a troubled land, with a shattered dream.

Unable to return, a country in disarray, A decision made, a new life to convey. With a purse and a secret compartment concealed, To Paris, I journeyed, my fate to be revealed.

Jewels from my mother, my grandmother’s grace, Guiding me in this uncertain, uncharted space. A pouch held a locket, our love sealed in gold, A memory to cherish, a story to unfold.

Paris, a city of possibilities and dreams, A haven for artists, or so it seems. Guided by Domitelli, a woman so wise, Connections and pathways to artistic highs.

I painted, sewed, wrote, and styled, A metamorphosis in a city beguiled. Greta’s lessons, skills from a childhood past, Prepared me for a life that would forever last.

From a life of privilege to one of participation, I embraced change, a new determination. In a morning arrival, Paris embraced my soul, A new chapter unfolding, making me whole.

Roger and Domitelli, anchors in my storm, Guided me to trust, to a place that felt warm. A community of creatives, a family found, In the heart of Paris, my roots were bound.

Days turned to years, contentment in my heart, In Savoir Faire, a hat shop, my creative start. Dressing hair, crafting hats so fine, A paid endeavor, and a life to design.

Parisian streets, a canvas within my stride, With friends so dear, in joy, we’d confide. Trips into the countryside, champagne and delight, A new life blossoming in the City of Light.

In Pierre’s studio, a sanctuary to paint, A refuge from the world, a haven quaint. Embracing art, my soul set free, In my cathedral of creativity.

Days off were my canvas of my Parisian delight, The Ritz, and the Hôtel de la Païva, both in my sight. In my summer lounge, where thoughts could linger, I saw a familiar face, and memories trigger.

A man who resembled my Beloved so, I followed, with silent steps to know. As he spoke to a close friend, a truth was revealed, A reunion in Paris, a love to be healed.

“Eva?” he stammered, his face filled with surprise, Tears welled up as I met his eyes. Against all odds, we found each other anew, Embraced in the Hôtel de la Païva, love’s rendezvous.

Stories shared, of journeys and quests, Separated by fate, reunited, our love’s bequests. Triumphs and challenges, as time passed by, In a small Parisian chapel we did fly.

A life woven together, threads of truth and loves heart. Married in joy, a future to chart. In later years, a cottage in LaPounche’s embrace, Nature’s serenity, our lasting grace.

Wrinkled hands, hearts content, Reflecting on a life so well spent. Adversity faced, resilience found, joy lost and rediscovered, and love profound.

In the quiet of old age, under wisteria and bees, We closed our eyes, hearts forever at ease. Souls entwined, a story complete, A bouquet of joy, love’s victory sweet.

Heart to Heart, Elizabeth