There are metropolises, towns that exist only in books and haunt you like dreams
“Some memory of reading attaches you to a city as much as to your family,” wrote Paul Mo-rand in his London texts. Reading this sentence, entire cities sprouted from read books suddenly reappeared, unforgettable places, tenacious and uncertain; tenacious perhaps because they have this texture of memory and dream: an elusive image, a simple sensation but which haunt you constantly.
These cities of paper remain, like mirages, like the memory of a dream. Peters burg of Andrei Bela. I remember it as if I had gone through it in a slow and fabulous nightmare. An obscure, cold city, bathed in a faint street lamp, which lights up from near to porch, hallucinatory scenes. A city where snow swirls in a storm, like ideas under a chaotic brain, where a river of dark ice flows. The narrative, it has faded with time, but the feeling of the city in the novel, I can not forget, even if it has nothing to do with the true face of the city, that since I saw my eyes.
