Elisabeth W

Rooftops of Paris/The Memory Plays Tricks

When I lived in Paris I drew a piece in graphite of the rooftops of the city for my uncle. Long and narrow, the interlocking cubes of grey mansard roofs, chimneys, and antenae ran in a horizontal line across the page.

On the way to my cousin's apartment to visit and drop off the piece, in the metro I noticed a man sitting opposite me whom I thought to be the director of a movie my cousin and I were auditioning for, nervous and trying to think of a way to approach him I was distracted by thoughts of being in a movie and what it would be like to film in Marseilles. I arrived at my cousin´s apartment having realized that the man with the ballcap was not the director, opened the bag, and discovered that the rolled-up drawing was gone. Somewhere along the way it had fallen out.