~ calling on symmetry ~

you're a real famme fatale, prima! 

so that's what you're called when you smoke a cigar without ever lighting a cigarette before. that's the first time when i didn't negate. i've never fancied being one. names? i've been called so many.

my steps clattering through the midnight streets of a city i baptized as chamber paris, red coat, searching what i believed was a graveyard and what turned out to be rooftops. bridges. sitting in the hotel window and looking down at the lights of place de la gare, with a heart beating like charlotte's of lost in translation.

a portrait of rafael as baron von petit paris scribbled on the backside of a beer coaster, a few seconds. a red coat, the bridge, the songs. 

sinking my hands in the moss of grund's stone walls, its mildness, soft green, wet leaves, the thrill of relief.

i'm calling on symmetry of your mind