wouldn't it be loverly
"You know your average, run-of-the-mill, garden variety canal painting? Isn't that exactly what that looks like?"
"ha ha ha ha, totally"
"I mean I look at it and it's just like, yeah, that's totally what that looks like"
"It's amazing. It's gorgeous.
I mean, I always thought surrealism was a style--"
"--and not a city"
"ha! exactly. I thought maybe Van Gough was onto something but he just painted what he saw. lame. God, baby, it's beautiful. take my picture!!"
as she skips to the tiny bridge she turns around a lamp post, "AMSTERDAM DARLING! we're in AMSTERDAM! take my picture!"
She pulls out the pretty new umbrella in the soft patter of rain, coral with white stripes, and poses with all of the gaiety and sweetness of Doris Day or Audrey Hepburn. She extends her back leg to beveled tendu, chin and cheeks smiling to the skies.
An old man in a tattered jacket, hobo gloves and glasses stops in his path to watch. He slowly begins motioning with his hand and muttering under his breath. She spots him from the corner of her eye. As she quickly begins to lose her enthusiasm for the moment she mutters.."hurry--- baby, will you hurry?" He continues to fumble with the camera, trying to manage the shot with a horrible point and shoot without using the flash. The hand motions begin to swell as he delicately conducts his silent symphony with the soft swirling motions that originate in the elbow and burst into completion with each flick of the wrist, all the while muttering. muttering.
beyond comfort she scuttles to the darling, "okay baby, (nervous laugh) that's good. I was getting all confused and nervous, I thought he was trying to pose me or something or something, it was making me feel weird ... quit. quit that, the moments gone, quit. no more pictures."
"oh i didn't know he was doing something? I couldn't see him but he was walking behind me mumbling lowly in a dutch accent 'I am a painter, I know too much. I know too much.'"
"Ha! oh really? ...
mmm... we're in Amsterdam baby.."
I feel as though I misread too often, too soon. In retrospect, it may be the best compliment I've ever received. "I know too much" was I a nymphette Annabel/Lolita on the French Riviera? Was he just bat-shit crazy? I'll never know. But in those few short days I gave my soul to Amsterdam. It made my heart both sing and weep. Something there made me feel so happy, a happiness I haven't felt since i was a little girl, and I too felt for a moment "I knew too much" I couldn't enjoy it without the recognition of it's bittersweetness causing tears to stream my sunkissed cheeks. I can't imagine a more magical place if I tried, and I'd have never believed it existed if I hadn't seen it for myself.