original, "Aline for Robert"eponinesyndromeSeptember 1 2010, 21:11:34 UTC
She dreams in black white, of spies and ladies in trench coats and heels. She sleeps underneath a sea of baby blue- Marie Antoinette blue, she calls it- lapping at her thin, milky legs. She drinks coffee like water, smokes a million thin, toxic cigarettes a day, and she laughs when people warn her about her health. She's lazy, but she can get away with it- because she's glamorous and pretty, because she can feign 'lost in translation.' She smells of Chanel and smoke, of shampoo and fresh air, leaving a stream of heady perfume in her wake, trailing behind a sheet of knotted, golden hair. She purses her bow lips when she doesn't get her away. She screams in French and curses like a sailor. She's stubborn and selfish and extremely hard to please. But she's also stranded in a city not her own- thrown into the melting pot of the United States with only two Parisienne legs to stand on. She misses her mother and her sister, her nephew and the family dog- all still happily rooted in France. She feels limbless, sick, lost, and untethered.
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