Good evening from Montreal.

living life detached
she knew of three elements
steel, concrete, and glass

___________

Bonne soiree from Montreal.

It's snowing outside; first day of snow this year for Montreal, and we were euh, lucky enough to catch it in full swing. It's dying down now, but there's reportedly 20 centimeters of snow on the ground, and visibility is limited to a couple hundred meters.

But in a way, it's beautiful too.

It seems like this is the way Montreal should look: concrete skyscrapers and traffic jams and surrounding hills, blanketed in a gray haze and caked in white. There's a special appeal to the aura to the city which is..ah, difficult to explain.

It's also about the people. They seems like snowy people. Not to mention quite friendly, and pretty.

[21:32] inqualcanto: like. it's french girls in general, where they're often not hot, but they're really pretty
[21:32] yuvali611acs: yea
[21:32] yuvali611acs: not ugly
[21:32] yuvali611acs: but just like
[21:33] inqualcanto: it's an "adorable" thing more than it is a "wanna bang her uhhh like a drum" thing
[21:33] yuvali611acs: if they have one "off" feature
[21:33] yuvali611acs: like their nose

I was just out for dinner, and we were fortunate enough to snag a hotel in a very chic district. Zegna's in our basement. Their Champs Elysses is just two blocks away. I'm in Elysium. Then again, I didn't spend anything today. Instead, I'd like to think of it as...preliminary surveillance. A recon. An...information gathering operation.

Oh shit. I forgot to bring my sketchbook.

___________

I want to dream beautiful thoughts.

I want to dream beautiful thoughts tonight.

I want to get rid of the tortured men and the suffering kids and the ruined school and the hopeless friendships and the unrequited love and the broken lives. I want to stop having to wake up wondering whether I had just watched a man starve to death because I couldn't help him, or if I had really permanently ruined a friendship because I talked too much, or had sex with a girl I didn't want to do it with because there was nothing I could do to feel better.

I've always been a slave to my dreams, trying to keep in touch with them as much as possible. Reality? It's a mask you put on. Your dreams are you...the real you. They are your manifestation of true art: self-expression at its most self-revealing. And they tell stories, stories that are left in the back of your mind waiting to be written.

And good dreams, like good art, are a commodity. But sin or not, sometimes one must take pleasure in bad dreams. It helps you stay in touch with reality.

But I'm sick of it. I don't want them anymore. I'm real enough. I want to go home.

Goodnight. Much love,
- Mirko

I don't get it

Camille.

Sophie Auster is gorgeous. Even if her music is really quite quirky. Get that through your head.

Love,
- Mirko