Paris. Evening climbs the rooftops as the sun pours out in slow gold. You tilt your chin to the charge above, where horses leap and a charioteer keeps counsel with the wind.
The flag cracks once, a crisp yes.
Stone speaks in verbs. You feel it in your ribs, that forward pull, a promise that hunger is a compass and courage travels with it. The air tastes like rain and bakery sugar, iron and hope.
Joshua Campbell
Director