Paris :: A Study in Glorified Sentences
[ bb/dm . for edigo, Rachel, and Shaenie ] R
Dom thinks he loves Paris in the same way he loves Billy, for they both seem to stretch for miles beyond their own physical existence - beautiful and distant from his life in LA, bound up in glorious (perfected) architecture.
...
Under the urgings of his mother, Dom visits a church in the early hours of the morning and stands beneath the back-lit (black-veined) stained glass windows as Billy stands silently beside him, studying his profile as the light splinters onto both of their faces in a dozen (different) abstract colors.
...
Dom rides in the car to the premiere, and tries to decide which he prefers: the city made (sharp) blue and (smeared) orange by the encroaching moon and the haze of three million cigarettes or the sensation of Billy's hand upon the front of his jacket, grazing up against black and gold and yellow (in that order) and ridden with some silent, snaking longing.
...
The bedroom window is made (paper) flat and (paper) white by the December morning sun when Dom wakes, only to find a tiny (latticework) capital A cut out in silhouette from the glass - the Eiffel Tower - and as Dom tries to slide from the (so warm) pale green sheets to study it further, Billy captures him with the sleep-stained (gravel) lilt of his voice, whispering against his skin and saying, "No, luv. Not yet."
...
The (waterlogged) papery smell of the metro clings to the soles of Dom's shoes as he climbs above ground, struck by the cold (bite) of the afternoon and of surface wind, as the subterranean trains rumble behind and beneath him like the ancient grind of (mechanical) thunder, and Billy brushes past his arm, leaving faint traces of sandalwood and Dom's cologne (on Billy's hands) to shift and stir in his wake.
