Thursday, June 2, 2011

Fleeting images, Paris lost

Last night I dreamed that I slept in a bed of fallen flowers. I noticed I had bruised some of the petals, turning them from a light pink to a burnt orange... I didn't belong where I was. The sun was blinding my eyes and I thought someone left me at the Tuileries. Fragments of my childhood flashed quickly, the ferris wheel, wooden beams, la Duree, scraped knees, cashmere sweaters, marble staircases, bad report cards, my elegant mother staring at Notre Dame and I awoke, sleeping next to my boyfriend in Seattle.

For a brief moment I lived in a dream of a long lost past, and in my memories, the vibrant modern city, no longer my home, looked like dusty old photographs... a mystical place trapped in the web of time

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