Pastoral Erotica in the Urban Landscape


Versailles is not what it used to be. Gone, long gone all the surrounding villages, and in spite of the hundred acre park of the Chateau, it is yet another urban center whose pastoral past is but a memory. Is this why I am getting so emotional about occasional pieces of bucolic nostalgia? When I see them done right, and then presented like this in a gilded frame, I am ready to shed a tear. What is a human memory without a good frame? And what is the right frame if you cannot touch it? The first thing I did was precisely that; and nobody was there to tell me that I could not do it. How can I describe my affection the moment I saw this picture on the stairs of the municipal library, 5 rue Independence Americaine? I kept on taking pictures of this picture. I say picture, but it is certainly more than that, for I cannot exactly claim that I have taken it home, nor can I say that it was freed by me the moment I have published the photo in my blog. Still my readers have to agree that something has happened, something only this new electronic media would allow me to do. What is it? I scratch my head with both hands and stare at the screen. I cannot tell you yet, but there is something I can do. I am going to call her Daisy.

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