New York City, 11. 2016
i. everything is amplified in this city.
A rush of freedom and fascination, followed by inhibition,
an electricity charged by contradiction and though these white flowers
in a pool of black velvet could be flowers in any garden of any city,
only they share the piercing thirst of a lost quixotic
in the epicenter of a concrete circumference where
loneliness too, is unimaginably alive.
Petals, a fragile handful falling between cracks, unnoticed
by a ceaseless city and in my own heightened awareness
come alive at night, white beacons of enigma in a moonlight garden.
ii. "An effigy of a youth that is eternal"
-Marcel Proust on collecting photos of muse Countess Greffulhe, for A la recherché de temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time), as seen in "Proust's Muse" at F.I.T
iii. "untitled" -the cure