Rumours had been swirling for weeks before they arrived, of beautiful gypsies who take your personal belongings to rid you of your unwanted memories. Everyone in the village said it was nonsense, saying these women where only hoarders, but you could see every one of the villagers looking closely at their belongings and searching for those things that made them recall painful memories...

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I watched the quiet parade with Gabriel García Márquez yesterday.

It was to start during the ghostly hour of the afternoon, when the people in his village go inside their homes for their siesta. The street was a desert of sighs; we were the only ones awake, sitting in the shade of the almond and chestnut trees surrounding the porch of the house we were at, with its doors and windows left wide open.

I was sitting on the front steps, in my white short dress which allowed for a breeze to skim between my legs, while G sat on a wicker chair in his shirt; his grey-white curly hair wet with sweat and his thick moustache moving to the rhythm of the wrinkles on his face...

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The Swans’ way

Let’s sit here on the river bank while we watch life pass us by. Let’s sit and watch beauty moving ahead in hordes of swans, in all their glory and sorrow. Let’s live in a black and white world, sitting here doing nothing except longing for furtive glances with the ones we have fallen in love with, whom we have never spoken to, our hair draped over our bony shoulders while the river sways for us...

More on madelienerose.com/the-daydreamers.

Every time I wear a backless dress I am reminded of Poe darling — Edgar Allen, that is.

I was putting one on yesterday to head out to dinner in the woods when I felt the cold tips of someone’s fingers resting on my back, moving down and skimming my spine.

I turned around to find a pale face and that dark, wispy mustache.

“What brings you here Mr Poe?”

“This dress Madeliene Rose, you are asking for the chills.”

“Ah, Mr Poe, you and your ideas. Teeth are not just teeth for you and a cat is not just a cat, aren’t they? You are the only man I know who will be weary of a young girl crossing the road alone in the twilight or at the sight of a backless dress.”

“Forgive me, it is the way I see the world.”

“I know, and thank you for doing so, but this here is just a dress and a good one too. Now that you are here darling, come join me for dinner with Proust, hmm?”

“Who?”

“Oh, you have never met him, have you? Oh darling, come, I think you are going to like him!”

Story credit: Image via BySun.

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