fantastic miss eloise

i want to exist everywhere. cities dappled with pastel-colored houses, hands grazing soft yellow fruits in markets, a blur of conversation in a crowded train station. i start to think in another language and my mother tongue is gauzy, a rosewater aftertaste. mornings are heart-fluttering awakeness, a rich yellow. i am seated at a café. warm, dark, acidic tastes and smells. girls in soft-fluttered skirts, bronze-shouldered, are reading wilde, shakespeare, dickinson. i take pleasure in people-watching and creating names, narratives and dreams for strangers that i will never meet. i bite into something filled with raspberry, tart and bright. afternoons are alive, a brilliant red. museum-wandering. an exhibit of gold egyptian jewelry. marble sculptures of goddesses. coiling, dreaming japanese pottery. navigating maps and asking for directions in a language that feels clumsy on my tongue, dipping in and out of memory. night is the deepest, most passionate indigo. outdoor concerts, that last farewell after midnight. the stars are a brilliant tapestry. everything glows and bursts. collapsing into bed, i am at ease. my heart is silvery birds’ wings, I think about the endless sunsets, the brilliant sunrises, my friends, mis amigos, I miei amici, meus amigos, 朋友... 

And indeed... The stars look very different today