in the dark, i can still smell the lily of the valley bouquet that i’d placed on my nightstand.
it seems like the only presence in the room, stronger even than the warmth of the person sleeping by my side. such a delicate and wonderful smell.
on one of my first pictures as a baby, taken in the popular fashion of photographing the kid naked for future adolescent embarrassment, i’m holding a stem of this delicate flower.
throughout the years it still holds a strong fascination, like a magic spell that has been cast over me. each year they bloom for a mere two weeks before turning into red poisonous berries.
yesterday it was the 1st of may, which, besides the communist undertones, consists here of the peculiar custom of offering lilies of the valley as a token of good-luck. sounds like a scene from a musical- one day when everyone would be offering each other the same beautiful flowers, merging into an olfactory orgy.
…i wish i haven’t gotten out of the house yesterday to see the sad spectacle of street vendors and tourists clustering around saint michel. however, it was my only chance of getting these beloved flowers, as there’s no garden that i can just pick them from anymore.
all there is left to do now is to dream the memory of the day away.