Today, I found a piece of chewed gum on the railing. Last tango. Last tango.
Cities, like fates, resemble each other.
The mural of Moulin Rouge in Moulin Rouge, Park Street. It looks so much like Calcutta, I thought. And then I remembered Calvino:
“Every time I describe a city I am saying something about Venice.”
This mural of Paris was about Calcutta.
Every time you’re in another city, you’re here.
Every time you’re with someone, you’re with me.
One response to “Paris/Calcutta.”
it’s like an umbilical cord that runs twice around the world, but sends blood and life throbbign through it