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“A HOTEL ROOM IN PARIS #31 At the bottom of the lonely window, The sky looks almost velvety lilac. While at the top, the window frame Seems to drown in front of an ocean of blue satin. White window frames in uneven walls Cast no shadow, so the light projects the soul of each traveller instead. So I sit here in silence, filtering out the noise That the boulevards inhabit and sing each day. Only the music I keep in my room, the silent solitude each one carries; Carries far and – may I hope – home soon.” — Laura Chouette
A HOTEL ROOM IN PARIS #31
At the bottom of the lonely window,
The sky looks almost velvety lilac.
While at the top, the window frame
Seems to drown in front of an ocean of blue satin.
White window frames in uneven walls
Cast no shadow, so the light projects the soul of each traveller instead.
So I sit here in silence, filtering out the noise
That the boulevards inhabit and sing each day.
Only the music I keep in my room, the silent solitude each one carries;
Carries far and – may I hope – home soon.