One challenge in life is identifying something that means enough to provoke total assimilation and maintaining a level of pure dedication to it. I have always envied the mono-activists in this world, those who are capable of putting blinders on and steaming along like a dutiful horses pulling their buggies. We build our own temples and fill them with personal visions and fears that eventually become reality. The real battles and triumphs take place within and around these temples.
Paris is delicately stirring a café noisette while people watching, counting the sets of Louboutin heels pushing strollers through the dusty elegant Tuileries gardens and risking life and limb to get a three second glimpse of the Concord ferris wheel by bike. It is a breathtaking color by number, where you decide which pantone to choose and where it fits best. The wind in your hair, the handlebars at your beck and call.
One dream at a time. The scintillating sequins of light strung one after the next, an immaterial strand of nocturnal experiences. The setting usually ends up being a white corridor, where the shades of light transform shape and texture without anyone noticing.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group as they climbed up onto the plateau of what seemed to be their old launching pad XP997. They had indeed taken a wrong turn somewhere. But where, exactly? The foreign terrain seemed treacherous, with it’s linear stone plane glaring back at them; their miniature plastic and tin hearts sunk simultaneously as the glooming question resurfaced once again. Where to next?
Waves lapped at the shore, pulling infinitely thin lacy layers of sand from the beach back into the sea. The chatter of the seagulls waned down to a lullaby with the rising of one yellow moon in the distance. Way past their bedtime, the prince and princess collected sand dollars in a burlap sack that lay at their feet.
A psychedelic time machine at an arms length away. Just brush that unruly tuft of hair behind your ear and make it fit. Where have you gone? Where will you go? But most importantly, where are you now?
An army of metal jaws stood guard, separating us from the buttery layers and clouds of meringue. That Sunday afternoon had hollowed out our growling bellies and left us hungry for pasteries and poetry. Digging deep into my pocket with fumbling fingers, secretly wishing to stumble upon the missing key.
The sugar that trickled into my consciousness like sand in an hour glass took the form of a silhouette on the horizon. It was strong and angular, one semi-invisible shoulder on a cool summer evening. Destiny dealt me with the perfume of an empty sky that drifted among stark massive towers and scaffolding. But that’s what little girls are made of: caramel or coal?
It starts in the center, where inner fire burns blue. Seeking to see and making it true.
A burst of light shot down through the sky, splintering into the leaves, shattering into rainbow diamonds and tumbling to the ground with a soft thump. An autumn afternoon, parading through the forest and dancing among the ferns. The yellow powder of the spores decorated our feet with fleeting polka dots.
A glimpse of somewhere else 