55

How to capture a moment that has not yet happened?

How to feel something that has existed but in dreams?

There is a place in the city where green trees and red bricks meet. There is a street in Manhattan where grand churches and hotels fight. There is a lane downtown of concrete paved till Hudson, blue. The street 55, carrying over its lobbies and jewelleries the sheer luxury of bygone women’s scented trail. It was but a dream yet Patricia Choux’s mastery gave birth to this personal vision, this unforeseen 55.

A choreography drawn on silver dust, 55 is the metaphor of a love quest; the sheer expression of a spiral, inspired, vertical tension. Clouds dance and reel: a silky ballet of sultry-white flowers whence jasmine accents spring like rays of golden light against a sky of dark notes.

I can still hear your high heels on the pavement

and picture the diamonds 'round your neck

and 'twixt your fingers one of your thin cigarettes.

I can still follow you through crowds and silence, through East and West, through up

and catch a glimpse of your scent in the linen of my sheets.

For there is a street in Manhattan which I know and which you knew and where we knew each other, You and I.

reach for me