Our life today is an endless show and our carmine carpet, vermilion, purple or magenta sometimes turns crimson when our emotions merge.
If the consecration of an artistic success symbolically materializes by the ascent of the steps on a red carpet, this exhilarating effect must be combined with frustration when one realizes that hardly the last fringe of the carpet spanned, the ballerina’s shoe becomes a vulgar slipper that no longer interests the limelight.
I never see the end of this eternal ribbon. In my most daring dreams, it becomes a flying carpet and melts in divine heaven. On earth, it embraces the granulations of the soil. By treading on it with fondness, it becomes a carpet of velvet and happiness without artifice or spotlight, where one can pour out in complete privacy.
Your anonymous star.
To be continued …