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Theirs is a story of three cities.
Tomas remembers the Paris of winter. He remembers the Seine under Pont d'Iéna, the tower and its tourists ahead of them. The cold sewage smell on the wind, the wind catching in their coats. He remembers Fabien's scarf was double-knotted and dove grey and that Fabien hardly blinked against the white sky that day. The city colored itself to suit him.
Why the river?
He remembers making a scene. He remembers making a scene because Fabien wouldn't even look at him.
"Don't tell me what I want, Fabien!"
Fabien had lowered his head, inclined his face toward Tomas, breathing quietly. Fabien had always moved like an oil painting, slow, sweeping grace. His eyes were on the street behind them, eyelashes low, thick and smudged lines of soot.
"You are too intelligent," he said simply.
"And what about passion! This is my religion! My life!"
"I do not understand your créole, Tomas"
"My cré! Because you refuse to listen!"
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More