I wanted to tell you that the world feels different now, as if the streets have been narrowed by time and memory.
I circled the block twice today, past the cafe where once we argued over an artistic dream that refused to bloom. You said my colors were too bitter, my lines lacked the softness of surrender.
Paris was supposed to change us. Even there we remained tangled like a silk scarf caught in the wind, never quite coming undone. Never connecting the way we meant to.
And yet ~~
I still wanted to tell you.
Always.
This is tender and poignant, Helen. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteTruly beautiful, Helen. Perfection.
ReplyDeleteelegant, and eloquent, Helen ~
ReplyDeleteThis is wonderful, Helen. I especially like, "my lines lacked the softness of surrender. Paris was supposed to change us. Even there we remained tangled like a silk scarf caught in the wind, never quite coming undone."
ReplyDelete"We remained tangled . . . Never connecting ....." Indelible is such world-changing love, however it passes in the scheme of things.
ReplyDelete"Paris was supposed to change us." Yes, that is the promise. But we wake up, even in Paris, as who we are and look at ourselves in the mirror.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully remembered nostalgia. There IS something about Paris!
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautiful and visual
ReplyDeleteExperience --and memory -- is bittersweet, all of what you draw clearly and lightly here. 'Tis enough.
ReplyDeleteThis was so lovely
ReplyDeleteNot only did you invoke the novel the prompt list came from, but then you spun it into something different, unique, and heart wrenching.
ReplyDelete