Memo Paris Marfa

Your eyes are directed towards the sky, the desert is forgotten. The tuberose is your guiding star and your shepherd. A riddle will come, infinity hidden behind facades, silence beneath cacti. A Western in slow motion, a series of artfully cut scenes. As the Milky Way draws its azure trail, you merely fly by; a road, half cedar, half sandalwood, rises before you. You know how to hold the wind, uniting musk with the vibrant patterns of colored neon light, lifting the dust from the orange blossom. Guided by a final glimmer of ylang, vanilla extends its hand to you. Here, your life is a book full of stories. Marfa: your theater, your poem, your creation, your invention.