j’aime plus paris…..plus (3 pictures and a short tale)
Pardon, i seem to have forgotten to post these shots in the last post, and i do so like them.
My first day in Paris, i dropped my bags off at the hostel and walked off. In the distance i saw the land rise up and a rather nice looking structure sitting atop it. Montmartre as it turned out. Getting there involved steps, lots of steps. I looked at them, daunted. Just then a voice came from behind, ‘would you walk with me?”.
I turned about to find a girl who it seemed dressed by allowing her wardrobe to explode all over her. Three layers of woven wool and tattered cotton, jeans under a skirt, and a guitar case in hand. We began our journey and she spoke to me as if she’d known me years longer than was true. She told me of her failed music career, ruined by the many breaks she had to take to tend to her ailing mother. She told me of the countries she had hoped to visit, india being one of them. I shamefully shared with her what little i knew of my supposed homeland. Halfway up the trek, she removed her burgundy woolen cap and pointed out the scar on her head that was caused by the step we were on one rainy day. Her shaking fingers showed me the two inches that made the difference between a scar and her death, then smiled. We sat on her usual spot for a while; she played me a song, then some for the streets and her strangers. As i made my way she grabbed my arm and held me; she smelt like Paris. I can still remember how her rough lips felt upon my cheek.
“My name is Christine by the way”
I forgot mine