Rain-soaked platform at Gare du Nord. Steam curls around your feet as you board a departing train just before the war. You wear a tailored trench coat, fedora tilted low, suitcase in one hand, a folded telegram in the other. The headlights cut through the mist behind you. It's Casablanca meets Dunkirk-bittersweet, tense, cinematic.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment