About this story
Back in Passy twelve years later on a week's leave, you glimpse a woman riding beside the empress and feel recognized by a stranger. That night she meets you inside a dream of the old avenue, teaching you to anchor its houses and windows in memory so the ground holds true, though she insists you may be only a figment of her own sleep.
How it opens
Before you became Peter Ibbetson, everyone in Passy called you Gogo Pasquier.
Mimsey SeraskierCarry me today, Gogo; the long road makes my chest hurt.
Madame Seraskier's garden, your cousins, and Mimsey formed a childhood that seemed permanent.
Madame SeraskierRemember places carefully, children; happiness is careless about keeping records.
Mimsey, if one of us must leave Passy, promise the other will remember every path.
Mimsey SeraskierRemembering is easy while we still believe leaving impossible.