The pier shines in gold and indigo as the Levi lake swallows stars. There are a handful of boats playing the part of brooches, red parasols turning into rubies, the moon as a hair piece. Both the city and I have dressed up for the occasion, it seems. We've been parted for a year, and we'll be parted again soon, it doesn't matter now. I observe the faces of street performers scrunched while they sing, the purest demonstrations of passion passing by my side. The storefronts smell of lies, but the insides are bursting with memories. It's quiet at this hour, the tourists retreating into french cafés, their smiles as warm as the heaters outside. They're playing into the illusion of the city, falling in love with the smallest part of a soul. I'd call it foolish if I hadn't gotten my heart broken before.
My eyes try to clean out the flood of nostalgia, leaving trails of tears down my cheeks. A drug addict stares at me from a corner, and I don't know who's eyes look more lost, his or mine. We're both intruders in this Manet painting of a night, holding onto the smallest piece of eternity.
I let the lights, who are slowly becomuing extinguished, lead me back towards the paths that I try to stick in my memory, but will forget days after. I seek comfort in knowing they'll forget me as well. For tonight, we're together in a stolen dream.