"I always thought paradise would be a kind of library." Jorge Luis Borges
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Flying over the geometric city at night made me imagine we were actually in a tiny, tiny plane skimming the surface of a gold encrusted jewel. The wind or the Christmas lights made it appear to be twinkling. And the dark spaces became less river and road and more the recesses between the gems. Maybe we were just gliding above the pendent worn by a great queen, unaware of our smallness.