Quote of the day

Was it really a dream or the secret nightlife at this hour looked like a dream? The sad autumn moon had long been floating above the ground, and time had come to take a break from lies and pretence of the day. The entire Paris seemed asleep, not even the poorest quarter was awake. I’d been sleeping long, and finally, slowly, the sleep let me free, like a caring, thorough doctor, who had done its job and only allowed himself to abandon the patient when the latter breathed a lungful and smiled that shy and joyous smile, signifying return to life. Waking up, I saw myself in the quiet and bright night’s realm.

In the chair, by the window she sat, the woman I loved, – all in white, looking like a young girl, pale and beautiful, tired of everything we’d gone through, of what had made us so angry and implacable enemies.

Why couldn’t she sleep that night?

Avoiding looking at her, I sat down on the window sill, by her side… Yes, it’s late – the walls of the opposite house are dark. Windows are black and hollow, like blind eyes. I looked down: the narrow and deep corridor of the street was also dark and empty, and so was the entire city. Only the pale sparkling moon, slightly bent, was rolling, at the same time remaining motionless, in between smoky drifting clouds, the only ones awake in the city. The moon was looking me right in the eye, bright, but waning, and because of it sad. The clouds were passing it, like smoke; bright when still close to the moon but growing heavy and obscure behind the rooftops.

Translated by Ekaterina Shubnaya, RT