The feather show at quai Branly is leaving soon and I've decided this morning belongs to the birds of New Guinea — coffee first, buttons apparently optional. Come sit on my windowsill?
The feather show at quai Branly is leaving soon and I've decided this morning belongs to the birds of New Guinea — coffee first, buttons apparently optional. Come sit on my windowsill?
The apple fair sent me home with more fruit than sense, so my kitchen smells like crumble and the apron is doing all the covering tonight. Come lick the spoon with me?
Marigolds and old photographs everywhere in this little gallery in the 1st, and I've been standing here so long the flowers are starting to feel like company. My top gave up on my shoulders somewhere around the second wall. Come remember the dead with me — and keep me company among the living?
Halloween is officially over, my feet have resigned, and now it's just me, the lamp, and a head full of all the photos I'm going to chase around this city this month. You still up too?
The devil's ball under the bridge won't wait for me forever, and my wings are still leaning against the wall while I fight with these boots. Everything else is almost on — come be my plus-one in the dark?
The haunted wedding party in the 13th opened at noon and I'm already holding court by the pumpkin table in my veil — somebody has to catch the bouquet and I vote me. Come stand next to the bride?
The free night tour of the sewers is tonight and I'm already at the mirror getting ready — horns on, everything else still negotiable. Would you dare the dark with me?
The free zombie maze opens at La Défense at noon and I'm still stuck between cute costume and scandalous costume — this little devil number keeps losing arguments with my hips. Which team are you on?
Tracey Emin left her bronzes staring at the Eiffel Tower and I went to stare back — the wind up on the parvis had its own ideas about my dress straps. Come stand in the cold with me?
This video room at Fondation Pernod Ricard keeps painting me in colors that aren't mine — I came for the art and stayed for the light on my shoulders. Want to trade places with me?