It is almost dusk and it’s snowing heavily. I don’t mind it and as I’m finding the right path on the sidewalk I’m thinking I should’ve bought some groceries for dinner. Well, I was gonna go out later anyway so I’ll grab a bite at one of my favorite spots in the neighborhood, say Café Gitane.
The apartment is situated somewhere between Soho and Nolita on a rather narrow street. Third floor. I am slowly opening the door and I can’t help smiling and nodding at the décor in front of my eyes. A dim room lit up mostly by candles and a couple of lamps.
A fading fire and glowing coals in the fireplace. A vague smoky smell and a subtle scent of chamomile and fig.
Dark brown wooden floor. There is also a brickwall in the background and a Barcelona chair in a corner.
Turning to the left, I can see the improvised bar consisting of a bottle of Ketel One vodka, one of Balvenie 15 and one of Don Julio tequila. There are also the two glasses of red wine from last night.
In the kitchen, on the stove top, a kettle is hissing. Just in time for a cup of tea.
But where is she? Where did she go? What is this all about anyway?
White sheets on a messy bed and a Charles Bradley vinyl. Laughs and cuddles. That box of good Belgian chocolates. Memories. Daydreaming.
Just a glimpse of my imagination. A tiny intrusion into my reveries.
Relaxation.
