flyingnakedtofu

I woke this morning and walked from Bastille to Stalingrad. The memories spilled out. I was not disconnected, I was inside the city again. The gray and beige buildings went by like little trains in my mind: I have been in Paris my whole life, maybe I was birthed into the broken cobble stones and grew up melting into the dripping paint. All of a sudden I was moving, my feet taking my broken body and my mind was in the clouds kissing the perfect blue.
I was in love with Paris, I remember. I loved Paris so much. Then I remembered that it was Paris that did not love me back. I don't mind this time. I can be the unwanted lover for a few days, I will leave soon.