she remembers ricardo cortez saying that jessica was too sick to even attempt to come.

the whole night changed drastically when a chandelier fell on top of jessica and killed her.

the night started out fun.  we danced.  we drank.  we kissed.  happy as larks.  not a care in the world.

but he was right.  the night went awry.  we had to bury jessica in the sea.

arthur said that night was a strange one,  as if she wasn't there.  it hadn't yet happened.

it was in cadiz.  jessica and her nurse came in that night.

years later.  arthur thinks it was that dancer in andalusia.

he remembered the fountain but not the reflection.  he must have added that 

sometimes they mean something and sometimes they don't.  she said.

he had no control over their direction.

they must have come from his past but often he did not recognize them.

arthur's sequences lasted about as long as it would take him to climb the stairs.

she moved like film moves.  like people move.  like people in movies move.

it is hard to demonstrate here, but she moved.  watch the candle.

she talked to him at night, he claimed.  she also moved.

it was the forms that his fantasies took that interested him.

not necessarily what he was thinking.  that mattered less.  he was always free with his thoughts.

he thought that it was necessary to remember how he was thinking.

arthur knew that he made these men up.  nevertheless.

and the other man never really touched the doorknob.  but arthur felt it all the same.

arthur said that he felt a shiver when the one man barely touched the door with his fist.

like most men,  arthur's past was never far behind him.

after he said that, he laughed.  and he laughed.

in a pub some years later.  that man was interesting to watch, she said.

she heard francis bacon the painter, not the philosopher/courtesan, say those same things

he said that he was optimistic.  about nothing.  nothing in particular.

he would be the perfect fool.  despite this,  arthur was an optimist.

he thought that all men were fools.  it was at age 60 that he felt that

arthur was five months shy of 60.  he had the patience of a saint.

by certain people eating too much.  people eating too much money.

romance was alive then.  arthur said that it would be replaced

it was all very romantic.  it made her feel alive.

they were supposed to be running, but everything seemed to be slowing down.

not in any einsteinian sense, of course.

there was time.  and together they seemed to be able to bend time.

if he could reveal a little about himself, perhaps she would too.

but in this way she would learn something about him.

she would let him lead in the beginning.  she wasn't sure if that was the right direction to go.
 

arthur didn't know much about her either.  he knew that she could switch personas in a blink.

he never talked about his past.  she wouldn't hear of it.

they shared an attitude.  they were on parallel planes.

they were both running from something.  and they were in love.

it was a good time in her life.  it seemed that arthur had some money.

and then the next night it would start all over again.

then they would be alone.

there would be guests.  mostly arthur's friends.

there was music every night.