to co niemozliwe, okryte fioletem

Funny because I was thinking about her earlier on, that it has been six years since I last saw her, the usual thing with me; the passage of time, growing older, six years now being somewhere between a sixth and a seventh of my life etc etc
After an evening of watching the television I retired to my room shortly before midnight to continue the drawing I'm currently working on (a sixteenth century sailing ship augmented by ramshackle industrial looking pipes and chimneys,a woman's face looking at the ship, her chest a tangle of vines and leaves, three brightly coloured UFOs in a cloudy stormy sky). The drawing I had been thinking, began to remind me of a drawing I was doing over that summer, purely because both seemed to take forever, and got nowhere. I picked up something on the drawers to the left of the desk where I sit. A piece of paper. I unfold it, and in the dim light read the words 'TO CO NIEMOZLIWE, OKRYTE FIOLETEM'. It was the name that she had given to that picture I was thinking about, written in her script on a blank receipt from the petrol station. Above her writing, my own, an inaccurate translation 'AN IMPOSSIBLE NOSTALGIA, CAUGHT IN VIOLET'.
I hadn't seen the receipt for years, thought I'd lost - hadn't in fact thought about it all. I have no idea what it was doing on the chest of drawers next to the desk. I probably disturbed it over the weekend's influx of new furniture, accidentally released it from whatever nook or cranny it has been hiding in these past six years.