I dreamt we were traveling through a strange city (a hybrid between Paris and Tokyo). You told me you loved me in the back of a taxi–I don’t even know you. There was a black and lavender chandelier hanging in an egg shaped room. There was death everywhere; the streets were flooded, it smelled like decomposing matter. You fixed a man’s arm with a lighter after he was shot. I don’t know you, aside from the dream of you. Still, this dream of you is wonderful. Thank you.
