philosophie.

my world of Romance

When I was little, I lived in a world of Romance. I’m not sure what has induced it – externally or internally. I would  be sitting on the grass with my little umbrella under a beautiful spring sun, blowing a dandelion, and as the seeds fly away in the mid air my vision blurs and with that I sensed that I was sitting on the green grass on the endless glen somewhere in England, with wild flowers surrounding me that emitted all kinds of fragrances.

Of course, I had no idea where England was, or that it was called England at all. But I knew, I was in place different.

The other day as I walk down Broadway in Manhattan, in the crisp air of a slightly warmer winter day, I suddenly felt that I was a child again. All the buildings surrounding me were so different, they took me back in time, back to my time of Romance. Everything was so well acquainted in the distant memory of mine as a little girl – who never even saw all these things. I felt so estranged, so wonderfully estranged in such a place – all the people seemed so wonderfully foreign and all the buildings, so wonderfully different.

At that moment, I was the only person in the world. Everything else was like the glen somewhere in England.