Recollections two.
The hotel room is pitch black, just the way we like it.
IndentThe hotel is kind of noisy around this time of night, muffled voices from above, footsteps from the hallway, slight traffic from outside; it's a little more noisy than we'd prefer, but we're on a budget, and beggars can't be chosers, as they say.
IndentThe last time I saw a clock, on my phone because I unplugged the alarmclock to achieve supreme darkness, was well over an hour ago; it was well past midnight, then.
IndentIt's official, I can't sleep.
IndentAll the impressions of the past days are being thrown around in my head, the things we've seen, the people we talked to, even that monologue you did on surrealism after we went to that small museum on Dali in a back alley of Montmartre.
"We've all seen these paintings a million times," you said while staring at the souvenir postcard depicting a huge gray elephant with absurdly elongated legs and a temple on its back; the one you bought back in the gift shop. I stopped sipping my coffee and looked at you, convinced that there was more to come, that this was only the start of a long train of thought. And it was.
Indent"I mean, I could draw one of these puppies with my eyes closed," you continued, spinning the card in your hands and closing your eyes for emphasis.
Indent"You know, a body here, those weird legs there, a temple on top, horizon in the back." Your right hand slicing through the air as you painted the picture in the space between us.
Indent"But Dali, he'd never seen anything like this before. He ..." you opened your eyes, looked at me, thinking of the right words "... he just made this stuff up from scratch." Your gaze drifted off. "Just ... out of nowhere." You shook your head in wonder.
IndentYou stopped talking, and I didn't dare interrupt the ensuing silence. You stirred your tea and looked at the small sliver of the Sacre Coeur we could see from our spot in front of the little bistro.
Indent"I bet he was mad as a hatter," you suddenly blurted out. I almost, but not quite, spilled my coffee, but you didn't notice. "Completely hoo-hoo." A twirling finger next to your temple.
IndentAfter that you drank your tea in silence, your shifting eyes betraying no longer a single train of thought, but a veritable Gare Du Nord in your head.
Indent"Isn't it odd?" you then said dreamily, your eyes still focused on nothing in particular, more thinking out loud than talking to me. "Todays lunatics we lock up or drug into oblivion. But yesterdays lunatics we revere as geniuses."
Indent"Huh!" you then blurted out, as if again startled by your own observations. And then, while signaling to the garçon for the check, you added, with a mischievous grin, "I think I'll take up painting myself."
I turn around in bed so that I'm facing you. You're fast asleep; every bit of you, your slow, hypnotic breathing, your slightly opened mouth, your twitching eyes, proves this. I lean over, gently place a kiss on the top of your nose, and whisper, "Good night, you lunatic you".
IndentThe hotel is kind of noisy around this time of night, muffled voices from above, footsteps from the hallway, slight traffic from outside; it's a little more noisy than we'd prefer, but we're on a budget, and beggars can't be chosers, as they say.
IndentThe last time I saw a clock, on my phone because I unplugged the alarmclock to achieve supreme darkness, was well over an hour ago; it was well past midnight, then.
IndentIt's official, I can't sleep.
IndentAll the impressions of the past days are being thrown around in my head, the things we've seen, the people we talked to, even that monologue you did on surrealism after we went to that small museum on Dali in a back alley of Montmartre.
"We've all seen these paintings a million times," you said while staring at the souvenir postcard depicting a huge gray elephant with absurdly elongated legs and a temple on its back; the one you bought back in the gift shop. I stopped sipping my coffee and looked at you, convinced that there was more to come, that this was only the start of a long train of thought. And it was.
Indent"I mean, I could draw one of these puppies with my eyes closed," you continued, spinning the card in your hands and closing your eyes for emphasis.
Indent"You know, a body here, those weird legs there, a temple on top, horizon in the back." Your right hand slicing through the air as you painted the picture in the space between us.
Indent"But Dali, he'd never seen anything like this before. He ..." you opened your eyes, looked at me, thinking of the right words "... he just made this stuff up from scratch." Your gaze drifted off. "Just ... out of nowhere." You shook your head in wonder.
IndentYou stopped talking, and I didn't dare interrupt the ensuing silence. You stirred your tea and looked at the small sliver of the Sacre Coeur we could see from our spot in front of the little bistro.
Indent"I bet he was mad as a hatter," you suddenly blurted out. I almost, but not quite, spilled my coffee, but you didn't notice. "Completely hoo-hoo." A twirling finger next to your temple.
IndentAfter that you drank your tea in silence, your shifting eyes betraying no longer a single train of thought, but a veritable Gare Du Nord in your head.
Indent"Isn't it odd?" you then said dreamily, your eyes still focused on nothing in particular, more thinking out loud than talking to me. "Todays lunatics we lock up or drug into oblivion. But yesterdays lunatics we revere as geniuses."
Indent"Huh!" you then blurted out, as if again startled by your own observations. And then, while signaling to the garçon for the check, you added, with a mischievous grin, "I think I'll take up painting myself."
I turn around in bed so that I'm facing you. You're fast asleep; every bit of you, your slow, hypnotic breathing, your slightly opened mouth, your twitching eyes, proves this. I lean over, gently place a kiss on the top of your nose, and whisper, "Good night, you lunatic you".