Nathalie has a thing for Einstein which is relativity clear,
impulsiveness to deny the very thing that makes her human,
she never thinks of the future because it’s already here,
nothing but miracles for the steady cam cerebral bohemian.
She takes it easy and is looking for new ways to take it,
the background of her thoughts drift the edge of sensuality,
her pounding heart broken she discovered how to beat it,
her conscious is trapped on a dream blind date going crushingly.
Follow her shivers from a Renoir high to a city of deliciously refined sin,
quickly later becoming a lord of war with an angel heart-aching sword,
poisoned with dreams of happy hour sweetness on days without him,
still instants of fugaces shine with a black and white awakening Lord.