Dreaming Russia

Someday I shall be seen stepping from a bright yellow taxi, muffled in fur (and maybe a few diamonds), to a waiting doorman, and for one night at least I will pretend to be something special. Maybe I could be one of the lost Russian princesses, corseted, coiffed and awaiting certain doom. I don't know. But what better place to imagine than the Russian Tea Room? Just a few blocks from the Metropolitan Opera and just outside of Central Park, this is the place I am dreaming on these days.

I look over my shoulder

This song represents my childhood. Yes, I am...more than a little nostalgic by nature. This is probably the first movie I ever watched (if you haven't seen it, you must), and my sister and I used to sing this endlessly. When I hear this I see my sister and I lying in our beds in the dark, singing and seeing fantastic shapes in the paint on the ceiling, in the shadows in the corners, in the patterns and textures of our blankets.



I hope you love it as much as I do.