Marco's house, La Dame Rouge, with its atmospheric, nobly proportioned rooms, each one like a setting for a scene of immersive theatre, was a place for dreaming exquisite, thrilling, dreams -
You might gaze upon a curious carving as your eyes closed - you would hear gentle laughter as you began to dream - the passionate novel you'd found would slip from your fingers -
There was a well in the garden - frogs idled in the warm water like indolent boys
- fallen coconuts lay in drifts upon the red earth - slender palm trees were outlined against the flawless sky -
All around the house lay the back waters, a dark lacework of lagoons and narrow channels -
We saw thin figures paddling fragile craft past Chinese Fishing Nets - we gazed upon broad stretches of still shining water -
In my reveries, I wandered through tangled, burgeoning, greenery - I swam in a fathomless waterway, bright bubbles trailing behind me, joyous and serene -
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