I've been dreaming in French-- sleep-veiled murmurs still on my lips when I wake. My heart pounding from the labyrinthine search through every arrondissement. I'm following the trail of my shattered heart pieces, the rough-cut gems I had given away freely, passionately in the months leading up to my journey. But they were scattered carelessly across the circle of the city. I quite simply have the blues. I miss Paris-- I can't wait to return. And I miss... well... that's another story.
It's dark and cloudy with the scent of coming rain in my corner of the globe today, and I've got the blues. How appropriate that I'm surrounded by a celebration of blues music all weekend! The morning stretches lazily into a new day. It's a new moon. I sip black coffee, savor the musical magic of Nina Simone, and allow myself to dream some more.
It's dark and cloudy with the scent of coming rain in my corner of the globe today, and I've got the blues. How appropriate that I'm surrounded by a celebration of blues music all weekend! The morning stretches lazily into a new day. It's a new moon. I sip black coffee, savor the musical magic of Nina Simone, and allow myself to dream some more.