Book3:WereMyDreamIs

op,sproutandgrowintoalovelyflower.Theblossomingoftheflowergeddeagidmadethisdirtyandmessyplotofndintoaparadiseoh.

    Rhythmicalmusiotesfloatedintheairlikecolorfulbutterfliesdanginthespringbreeze.HundredsofpeopleassembledinthesquarebeforetheCityHall,seeminglythereforsomegatheringorfestival.Onthemakeshiftstage,skillfundprofitjazzmusiswentallouttratingonperfaicDixiendtypeofmusicothatwaslight,quidhadastrongrhythm.Dimitri’sweather-beateuresappearedbehindthergeballofpinkcottondy.Hewaslikeachildagain,ligatthedyinhishand,savitssweettaste.Henevermissedlivelyoccasionslikethese,fullofhustleandbustle.Hewouldpushhiswayintothecrowdtolistelytotheperformance,hisfoottappingihemusidthenhewouldgetoutofthecrow