ph: devina
michel legrand. "sous le ciel de paris". the same afternoon, same afternoon rain. same wind, same dryness, same traces of time on the cold linoleum tiles. i keep on inventing by writing, challenging, dreaming. it is through them that i find insanity, life, internal whispers. i still keep the flame he'd left me that september. it was raining back then, too. i was with him at his studio. same cold, white, bleak linoleum tiles. him: "long day." today, my favorite secondhand bookstore. thick hardback. iced coffee. hot apple tea. cigarettes, cigarettes, seemingly no-end of them.
i think about him. mo grà. he's with somebody else now. elle l'aime beaucoup. il n'est pas l'aime. les complications dans deux gens imparfait.
