At 5 pm you close your laptop. The building is emptying itself of its inhabitants and for once you actually feel you might be able to take the rest of the evening off. So you revert to your spotify account and for a moment deliberate with yourself whether you should go for Discover Weekly suggestions or your trusted classical playlist. You decide for the former, but end up flickering through most tunes. You are about to go for the classical playlist after all, when a classical number appears. It’s familiar and it slows down your pace a great deal. For a moment the park you are walking through is transformed to a scene from a city you long to go back to…..Paris. You travel back to autumn strolls in obscure graveyards and venturing into vintage shops in St Germain. You recall buying a beautiful wool dress from Gaultier. Perhaps you ought to wear it again.
The spell is broken when you enter the central station. After all it shares little architectural resemblance with its Gare du Nord sister.
The next hours are spent in a haze discussing why vintage fragrances are often reformulated. This and so much more whilst Anna is repeatedly being played out in your mind.
When you come home you notice 3 fragrant yellow roses just around the house.
Roses must be the most resilient of flowers, you note. They not only live and prosper through seasons, wars and devastation. They charm you with their scent and lure you with their luscious petals, yet they demonstratively and conclusively signals you to keep at bay. Don’t pluck me, it will hurt us both.
If you were a flower, you would no doubt be a rose you conclude…
better left alone