And then I walked out, straight through the twilight, treading the beaten earth. There were no dust clouds, no signs of anyone, but I paid no mind. I was my own lucky hand of solitaire. The desert landscape unchanging: a long, unwinding scroll that I would one day amuse myself by filling. I'm going to remember everything and then I'm going to write it all down. An aria to a coat. A requiem for a caf. That's what I was thinking, in my dream, looking down at my hands.

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About Patti Smith, M Train

Patti Smith, M Train.

Themes

  • Dreams — Aspirations, visions, and the world of the subconscious

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