A notebook entry.
This notebook entry was written as part of Project 1,825 Things.
The rue de Rivoli was blue and deserted in the falling dark. The naked poplars along the Seine exposed, like arteries in the body, blush-gray and lilac in the traffic lights. New red shoots coming out of the clenched fists of the chestnuts and the lime. There were people still out in the Jardin du Palais-Royal, moving like myths under the shadows of the old trees. The lovers, the fool, the high priestess with her dog out for a walk at night. Greek constellations halfway through their arc of comedy or tragedy.
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