An excursion to nowhere

I not only loved to drive but loved to be driven as well. Plenty of contemplation could be done during a particularly long and tiresome roadtrip. Reflections about God, one's existence, economic philosophy, the fate of mankind, lost and found loves, new and old friendships, or thoughts about human civilizations in general. As the greenness of vegetations started to materialize into masses of blurring and whizzing vignettes I pretended it was an interesting excursion to nowhere. It was better to travel hopefully than to arrive..

Oh la la! ma saison preferee

I wished Paris to be in autumn or winter perpetually. The dark and somber weather suited my black mood perfectly. The days were shorthened and the nights were lengthened. Winter made me daydreamed. Dreaming about possibilities and unfulfilled life. It also made me sleepy. I slept ravenously, craved for it as I freed my imagination from its usual restraints and thought of another life, other lives, yearning for those who were faraway, not wanting to wake. After a long night, which was always brief, I would stir awake with a sense of haplessness, even panic, as if the night had been impossibly short, too short to contain all the reflections I had reserved for those silent hours, in the hope of arriving at some resolution. It was not resolution of conflict. Simply some pointers to the way ahead although I did not have any difficult problems to solve. I was surprised to find the lights of offices to be switched on practically all day long. Every Parisien hurdled in solidarity. They were bundled in black and dark clothings hurrying home like cockroaches scurrying for their meaningless little lives. Every shop and every entertainment outlet were closed at 5pm. Everything was shut down except for those pathetic drinking holes were opened passed the curfewed hour. Oh my! This was so much fun...

Tu ne me manque pas?

The word missing has plenty of meanings. I miss you is a common utterance when one was away. I missed the land, le pays, as the french said, so much that I could not part with it, yet I left it anyway. Where was my loyalty, the fact that I loved my pays so much that I had to get away from it. The love was too much, it overwhelmed me, inundated me with cloying sweetness and sickness alike. The mixture of emotions was too strong and overpowering. So I had to leave to get away from such heaviness for a breath of fresh air. I wanted something ethereal and casual. A light salad and a perrier, s'il vous plait monsieur, I enjoyed my repas, paid my l'addition and off I went but not forgetting to say au revoir to the sully waiter.

Tu t'etais ou?

Once I was lost in the Parisien crowd. I could not find any familiar faces in the ocean of tourists and natives alike. I lost my bearing in the midst of ambiguity. Where am I, I screamed on top of my lungs. Usually restrained by my own cautious choices, I amazed myself and yelled until I gone hoarse but no answer, only to be met with raised eye brows and half hearted smiles. I felt that my voice was coming from a long distance, from far back in my skull, as if it was travelling over territories which I had never glimpsed. I must have gone mad, events had conspired to shatter the gentle rhythm of my life, I muttered, as the crowd went its nonchalant ways, ignoring others who were crazy enough to visit this overpriced yet beautiful city.

Paris, je t'aime

When travelling you tried to retain your identity and maintain your personality. No matter how, you wanted to stay above the foreign environments. You were not affected by these externalities, I am above this, you said. However, somewhere in you brain, you had already given up. In your heart of hearts you knew you had blended in, giving up pieces and pieces of you until all of you became parts of a whole that you did not know anymore. Who am I, you questioned yourself again and again. At the end, when the day had blended into the twilight, when the outline of the trees had turned into a darkened shadow against the backdrop of the night, you realized that all resistances were futile. And you had became the very thing that you despised yet loved, the native.