Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Let Me Show You Paris

Along the Champs Elysees, where the wealthy come just to shop at Louis Vuitton, you will see a world pass by any cafe in clouds of cigarette smoke mixed with Chanel number 5. My eyes saw the world that is ignored, a woman who prays for the pennies to come in to survive on the streets of Paris. I feel the March rains and think for a moment of my own heartache of waiting for an artist, a friend, and the pain subsides with the stark hunger in the streets. The beautiful lights lose their luster as the well heeled passer-bys mock the woman I find my heart breaking all over again. These were my beginnings in Paris, where I came solely to pursue my passions of writing and love...only to see I could not be blind.
As I found the beacon of the Eiffel calling me, I replicated the picture on my vision board. I found the park at the foot of the Eiffel and was dazzled by the reflection in the water. At night, alone, an Algerian man try to seduce me with butterfly kisses that lacked the passion that could only be answered by a familiar mouth. An imposter's heated heady stare was extinguished by my icey blue eyes. I was not for the plundering of such feeble seductions. A hunter that seemed to approach with sophomoric fumblings. Not even the power of the Eiffel could spare this man's humilation as I rolled into laughter...a woman with a closed heart..and a deadly kiss of a black widow. I winked and watched the lovers and visitors pay homage to the iron maiden. The modern goddess of love.

It was in this secluded square where I fell in love with the brilliant finger of this classical guitarist...and I swooned. There was no audience to speak of, and I stood there, out of his view to listen to him play as he would close his eyes and be enraptured by his own melodies. I wanted to dance and feel the music in my blood. I thought to myself of how so much comes through Paris. Who was I to knock on her gates and proclaim my dreams? I came to write about my search and quests along the way. In a city, a life, foreign to me, who challenges the world...a city of cities, of revolutions, of art, of intellectualism...I hungered to taste Paris.
Across from Notre Dame is Shakespeare and company. The library, the bookstore, the flop house for wayward cash strapped travellers...so close to the center of Paris. I fell in love again...with the smell of books, stacks upon stacks that I would wrap my arms around. My eyes fell upon a piano that begged for Chopin, and up the stairs I went to a writer's area, cramped, with an impossible typewriter with torn and worn ribbon, a writer's lamp...and an invitation to leave my mark...a dare to proclaim my dreams...

So I did. I return to Paris, I promised her I would return, as lovers do...and I will go and see the real streets and feel the real earth, and look at her with a full heart...to walk the streets of artists, of writers, and I realize as long as I breathe...I will write with every bit of passion within me.
For my dream has been realized, and now it is time to build bigger ones. J'adore Paris. I will see you again in 10 days darling.

4 comments:

Heather Conroy said...

How beautiful that the guitarist's music found it's way into your soul. How wonderful that you are making your dreams come true-Bon Chance Marilyn!

nicole madigan said...

This is really beautifully written

Eco Yogini said...

i loved your description of the reaction you had to the homeless woman. i do believe that some cities are romanticized beyond... I can think of some Canadian cities that aren't as "clean" as everyone would like to believe...

it's harder to think of those unfortunate people as being mothers, daughters, sisters... or that they ever had hopes and dreams like us.

beau et émouvant :)

Marilyn said...

Thank you ladies for your kind words.
Bon Chance indeed Heather! Nicole thank you..and yes, Eco..it often hard for people to look at a hurting person...it is harder to look at the coldness of the world as they ignore them. I still believe, those women have hopes and dreams...like us. They are still human.
Merry Christmas...