The Rooftops of Paris {unedited}

January 14, 2014 § Leave a comment

‘It is true that for some, life is what they have been taught it is. It is rising, and washing, and pissing, and working, and drinking, and releasing, and sleeping. It is laughing at what is funny, and having sex with what is desired, and thinking about what others inspire you to think about, in much the same vein that they have. It is getting through the hours, and the decades, in a state of contentment; inviting no pity for there is no loss. For others, life is excruciating: forever challenging what they have been taught, and what they have believed. Each day is unpredictable; sometimes offering peace and an acceptable degree of joy, other times offering extreme bliss at a conquered theory, or a meeting of minds, and at yet other times offering agony in the messy state of a mind unquenched. And then there there are others, who mingle somewhere in between. These are those that have the power to get through the day, and live fairly. They love well, and they are patient and kind, and yet below the surface is a kernel of intrigue: a niggling belief that not all is as it seems, and that there is something else: something other, something more. For these, it is a question of what lights the spark – it could be a book, containing within the perfect sentence or question, weighted enough to tip the balance, or it could be a companion; one who dares to utter thoughts barely breathed before.

Or it could be a description of Paris, from the lips of a man.Image

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