I dreamt in incredible color of my city last night - this morning - — my city, and even then a place grown from my imagination, an impossible collage of landscapes and architecture that exist only in the dormant recesses of my mind. There were people, interactions, kisses, conversation. Sun and then startling pewter rain and umbrellas to shield our hair. Flowers at a market, by the dozens, spilling from bouquets into pots into bushes and falling out into the cobblestone streets, trodden on by passing feet. It was a land for lovers lost in a trance, a Parisian New York of pure exhilaration that began and ended in your eyes and my hands and a joyful emotion I’ve yet to place anywhere but in somnolence.