philos
liberté
princeps
memoria

paris


After reading today's ST article on the riots in France, and how Paris is relatively unscathed by terrorism, it just brings me all the way back to Paris again, laughing and prancing on those well-worn streets, shopping and shaking my head at the exorbitant prices, seriously gushing over everything Paris..

How many will experience Paris before something happens, before some people destroy a place so beautiful..

But I have memories in me, just in case.

Just in case.



But they aren't really worth anything, except to me. I can't write them down, I can't describe them, because when I do, I lose the beauty of the indefinite.

How do you describe something that makes you feel liberated, so full of the life in this world, yet so strangely alone?

It wasn't so much of the romance of the Eiffel tower, or the picturesque settings we were in, but the knowledge that the beauty of the world can be found in the place you stand upon, and you know for certain, that this beauty is so ephemeral, because you have all this ugliness in a wretched world waiting for you, and you are caught in the pages of Yesterday, only because Today may be over in a second.


the man in the street - who really knows?

Paris is not a place, not a tourist location, not a money-spinning land of false hopes, fantasies and delusions. Paris is an ideal, and in it you can capture the essence of humanity in the history, in the people who breathe the history of the Revolution, of the opulence and affluence, of the disease and malady, of the inequality, and the strife..


this is paris


The blood of the people oppressed has dried, and who will be surprised if more is spilled? No one can kill an ideal. They can destroy lives, architecture, structures, monuments, but no one can destroy an ideal.



lourve




purple vibrant blooms.


i'm going back there someday..

No one but those who still live and know what Paris represents- for humanity, and for the individual.
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