The air is very still
with not a cloud in the sky
the air feels the temperature of my skin
as Paris sits in unearthly quiet
I love the liminal world
in the last-watch of night
the coldest-dark before dawn
when the city’s not yet alive
A low-area-mist lies on the Seine
like a luminous veil of winter breath
with stygian, pooling currents underneath
that always remind me of death
the black cat always sits
on the quay wall of the bridge
it’s there almost every day
not completely, solidly black
so i think, luck-wise, it’s ok
I make a conversational mee-oww sound
each time we pass, but it never answers back
it just jerkily flicks the final inch of its tail,
like it’s giving us the cat-bird.
.
.
A song for this:
Nothing Can Stop Us by Saint Etienne
Levitating (Live from the Royal Albert Hall) by Dua Lipa