Monday, December 18, 2006


Friday evening; birthday (not mine) drinks at the viaduct.

It was a faultless summer evening. Warm, late afternoon sun bathed the city in an almost transcendental light. The restaurants and bars were full. People happy, laughing. Pretty girls in red bikinis and santa hats frolicking on the bow of a departing yacht.

I wished I had brought a bigger handbag - my Cavalli clutch accommodated only cigarettes, cell-phone, sunglasses, so the camera had been left behind. Not that it really mattered; photographs never capture the perfectness of such moments. The resulting collection of pixels capture everything, except what was really significant.

I was drinking Moet. Everything was wonderful, I should have felt happy. Yet, I am cursed with a fatal flaw. When everything is just right, I cannot help but think, is this it? I watched silently, and felt sad.

I drank more, and eventually felt better.

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