Lots of people like rainbows. Children make wishes on them, artists paint them, dreamers chase them, but she is ahead of everybody. She lives on one. What's more, she's taken it apart and examined it, piece by piece, color by color, and she still believes in it. It isn't easy to believe in something after you know what it's really like. She dreams different dreams than you. She hears a distant drummer and follows a star most of you have never seen. Yet she knows that most dreams are illusions, like the rainbow she has examined so closely and still loves.
She belongs to everyone, and yet to no one. Her love can be tender and inspired, but there will always be a vaguely elusive quality about it, like a half-remembered song. You can hum the melody, but the lyrics keep slipping away.
J'ai tout vu, J'ai tout entendu, J'ai tout oublié.
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