The color burst suddenly and surprises like a carousel horse does with a child. It seemed that single window could mitigate all the dullness that surrounded her recently. For some 'lived in northern cities without balconies. Everything seemed strange on the road crossed between the mud and snow off of people hurried steps. And the gray reigned on the facades of the buildings of the nineteenth century, in the mist of the morning rush hour in the subway, in the icy river. The surprise in particular absence balconies: it was as if the buildings had only little eyes half closed, from which filtered through the curtains guess elusive faces, lights dim, dull, and spy a reflection of life you imagine. Theirs was a world within, she was living outside the norm.
The estrangement, however, had had a strange effect: you feel so far away that the only way to deal with the gray was through a camera lens. His being out, his feel too far away and allows you to look at life from a distance and so informed her in pictures. It was only this morning from the night. And the weeks passed and she waded scroll through pictures. Then a window on the course fashionable gray northern cities filled the afternoon of color.
was a pastry shop, nothing more simple. He saw crowding layers soft pastel colors, soft biscuit and amalgamated with the earth tones. The hardness of chocolate met the sweetness of the jam and everything that before had seemed suddenly took a sharp smooth edges. First reaction: shooting. But oddly, the magic did not work. And then tried again, but nothing. Then he realized that he felt pervaded by that color, the pink frosted cubes, the large and majestic multicolored layer cakes, dark and austere, pralines, the croissants were magically reduced distances between you and the world. Still taking a feeling of disbelief mixed, euphoria, excitement, disappointment (for its failure to release), but caught the one doubt: how could people off, whose steps are crowded between mud and snow along the roads, be makers of such wonders? He imagined the beautiful little fairies aprons and soft headphones in the kitchen fiddling around a Biedermeiertorte: saw a chubby-cheeked fairy prepare a biscuit fondant, and other work a more airy egg white and powdered sugar for the meringue mousse nuts. Still she seemed to smell the blueberry when I think of yet another fairy that was jam. And still others engaged in a praline and a Baumkuchen. He thought that there was best thing that layering colors and flavors.
And so he entered. The colors were added to the sumptuous scents of butter, of those velvety, enveloping meringue of whipped cream, chocolate and other comforting energy to the fruit. The vanilla and cinnamon hair invests in gusts and everywhere he looked he saw layers of sweet, dark and austere pastel icing. The focus fell on the dark chocolate slice, polished on the surface: it was a cake that had already seen, already eaten, but it acquired in that context, a particular light. Dark as the city that hosts it, hard and shiny like ice gripped the river, suggests that something in the gray had not yet noticed. That slice of cake was a world inside: chocolate apricot jam and the dough reminded that continually faces peering through the windows and guess, reached at a stroke the intimacy that was trying desperately for weeks. It was a journey between people, between the imperial palaces, including the snowy streets, the scent of dark chocolate and apricot.
At sunset, the old river, watching the world from afar she continued to shoot. Then be satisfied of his look-out, sneaking (like a secret between her and the city) tasted the cake from the dark heart of Vienna that reported in the world.
ps It would be easy to put in this little photostream a photo of a Sachertorte (because you understand that all of the Sacher it), but I deliberately avoided ... is still a secret between me and the city.
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