paris has been holding my hand the last 24 hours. just walking along with me. she does that sometimes. the sky is marble, sitting behind stone structures and clipped winter trees. and when i arrived at the bookstore last night in the midst of rain and temperatures that were neither pleasant nor miserable, a pile of newly arrived mavis gallant books smiled at me in the back room as i was hanging my coat. i picked the top one and tucked it under my arm. and soon i was underlining although it wasn't mine yet. but it was mine. i just hadn't handed over the money yet. wonderful stories and wonderful words and it all drips maniacally with paris, without necessarily being set there. it's like paris sits on her shoulder and pecks little bits of itself into her flesh so it bleeds like a virus into her words without being seen.
i hope she stays with me all day....paris, and now mavis too. they add an extra layer of artfulness.
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