The waiter sings the cappucino orders in waterfall Italian.  My latte arrives pronto, sweet from the milk heated to sixty five degrees.   These premises are fixed at an awkward angle.  The curve of the hill is  determined by the insistence of horizontal foundations.  Drinking coffee here has me expecting a gradient on the frothy meniscus.  Not so and what’s more, the temperature is unaltered as I indulge in a satisfying slurp. 

It is approximately four o’clock. The sunset hurries towards us and a beautiful clear November dusk cloaks the quickening sky.  Darkness invites an unacustomed appeal.  Lumiere will soon lighten up our city and with it our imaginations. 

I walk unsteadily into the purple and blue dusk, up a muddy path towards an artists Lumiere installation.  Tracey Emin poignantly positioned her piece in a deserted crumbling graveyard.  “Be Faithful to your Dreams.” She warns, or they too shall end up here with the derelict gravestones and the skeletons of those lying under them.  I slip and slide and hastily exit, but not before her bright blue words are imprinted on the soles of my feet.   

“Be Faithful to your Dreams.”


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