paris through fog
21 November 1998

My eyes darting in and out of the clouds trying to glimpse and object painted in my mind from childhood books, a landmark that has become a staple, a soul impression. Swimming over wood-chipped Formica countertops, the coastline is simply a memory, staring now in disbelief: how can something dreamt to be so inherently different look so eerily similar? Through the hazy morning I glimpse a lonely symbol and it colors my reality shades of magic.