The water of dreams
The dromedary of Oriental Leather
and the eagle of Moroccan Leather
share the night and the magic of Place de l’Étoile.
______
It is evening in a drizzly Paris, with the rain coming down in fits and starts. Some hurry to open their umbrellas, while others are already making a dash for shelter.
This dromedary, however, is moving at a different pace altogether. A nonchalance that imbues him with a rare elegance, doused by the song of the water falling from the sky. He stops briefly at Place de l’Étoile and slowly looks around him. He takes a deep breath, as if his nose were trying to absorb a secret long hidden in the air. It spurs him on. The rain and the odour of the caressing night. He feels good.
He lifts his eyes to the sky, in search of a few clues to this mystery that lulls him. What he sees, what he smells, overwhelms and revives him.
Streak in the sky. Feathers like gold sequins that beat the air to fill it with fragrant notes. Massive wings unfold, flap like a victory flag. The dromedary stands transfixed before the animal that draws its trajectory above the Arc de Triomphe. It is an eagle. Clutched in his talons is an object that gleams like a piece of pure sun lost in the night, shining its secret over the city. The rain has stopped, giving way to this new elixir. Something is happening. People who were running are now stopping, closing their umbrellas, others are even shedding their clothes to feel this magical light and captivating scent on their skin.
The eagle has just landed on the hump of the dromedary who was watching him fly.
The dromedary:
— Tell me your secret. Where does this perfume you are bestowing upon the city come from? Follow me if you like.
— Yes, let’s go, says the eagle.
They make their way together, riding the same wave, the eagle perched on the dromedary’s back. They pass people waltzing in the street, drunk on the new scent of the city.
