A summer place in the old style: sun-streaked upholstery, creaky doors, cocktails on a japannned tray. Point Russe: A village colonized by those who will never spend a winter there.
Imagine a house furnished by other lives. Some of them already led by the current tenant. Settle in for a summer of feverish society and gray afternoon dreams. A postcard lodged in the back of drawer. An analyst's bill. An embroidered napkin with the stitching half ripped out. Gossip and secrets, memories and desires. Point Russe...
"It's not down on any map. True places never are." Herman Melville, Moby Dick
© Ariel Swartley