resemble two meringues so exquisitely baked it would be rude not to eat them on the spot.
‘I don’t mind if I’m half blind
When I sing or when I kiss,
I prefer to close my eyes
In this hazy state of bliss.’
I feel hot. The little singer’s merry-go-round terrifies me, but I’m also dying to climb up there. The smell of candyfloss and dust makes my throat feel parched, I’ve got no idea how this pink carousel works, but I have to climb on board.
Suddenly, just like in a musical comedy, I burst into song. Dr Madeleine gives me a look that says ‘take- yourhands-off-that-stove-now’.
‘Oh my little fire, let me taste your attire,
Shred your clothes to a tatter,
As confetti make them scatter,
Then I’ll kiss you in that shower . . .’
Did I hear myself say ‘confetti’? Madeleine’s gaze speaks volumes.
‘Lost in a heartbeat,
Far away on my own street,
Can’t look the sky in the eye,
All I see is fire.’
We began to sing together, back and forth.
‘I’ll guide you through this city’s passes,
And be your special pair of glasses,
You’ll be the match I strike,
Yes, you’ll be the match I strike.’
‘I’ve got something to admit,
I hear you now but should you sit
Upon a bench, I couldn’t tell
Between your handsome self and it!’
‘Let’s stroke each other, eyes shut tight,
’Til our skeletons catch alight,
Let’s start a fire on the hour
My cuckoo-clock chimes midnight.’
‘I’m a little fire-girl, so it’s no surprise
When the music stops I can’t open my eyes.
I blaze like a match, a thousand flames burn my glasses,
