Paris Diary

So I went to Paris recently, and I know it is the usual, but it is crazy to come from such a new country where the air is fresh and land tough. You not only realise the beginning of so many cultural inspirations; you learn your own beginnings, the tough, dry, arid soul that merely reflects the external, but becomes your internal. 

In general things are a lot prettier over there. But what is living in beauty, when you can see it for the first time, and appreciate it for a life time.

It really is big, when you see it, towering, and you know what it is, you know the history, you know it well because you've been conditioned to it since you were young, but it still stands there in front of you, and it is so big. And you don't even want to look properly, because you don't want to care, like so many people have before you, and you've come so late, that you don't want to bend your head back so daylight hits your face directly, 'cause that would be to be like everyone else. 

So you just stand there with your hands in your pockets and you admire it from a corner and you take some modest photos of you with it in the background or you just acting natural. Acting like you've seen it all before and you see it everyday and you are fucking something you are not. And that is all you will do.

You walked through parks because you admire what they have to offer, but you are cold and you have only half the idea of where you thought you would be by now. But you know you won't mind ending up surrounded by greenery at any point in life or there after.

The detail you can see standing so far away, proves that in some human trait there must be some desire to succeed and to apply ones self, even if you can't motivate yourself to wash your plate after most meals. 

The harmony that is caused when you have the barrier between nature and your body broken down, when small creatures you could kill come right up and call you a friend. It happens with children and it happens with small birds, everyone wants to be liked, but more so everyone wants to appear likeable. 

You again stood in front of something to remember that you were actually there. There is the fact that you could obtain any picture from an inter-web search and stick it anywhere, this fact you noticed provided a de-motivating element to your attitude when away, with a mentality that you need not see everything the world has to offer, as most of it you've seen and will see again, and you're much to lazy to have anything squeezed out of today, anything more then strolling to a café for lunch. 

The art gallery was something, and something you think with a mentality as mentioned above that would contradict motives, but it didn't. Excitement flows through the very heart at the mere memory of getting dressed that day. Where you knew years of school were dedicated to this moment, of walking and viewing. Amazing how the sense of sight, in which you perform most daily tasks, can still, when told to, provide one with the most rewarding sense of achievement once a glance has been stollen from the right artefacts.

You tell her to stand still for anywhere from 10 seconds to three minutes, before you create the most mundane of pictures. Where she with-holding a smile stands frozen, to cement the actuality that she'll be frozen in memory and have the one in the same form of proof, in which that reality came to pass once, and you captured it.  

Standing over anything is a exercise of power, one that you aren't used to because your height restricts you from standing taller than most things. But when opportunity arises, one must snatch it, and taste the familiarities of many others, this picture was one of those moments. The wind was bare and unbroken before it hits your face. The millions below care little for your power trip, and again you took a picture to remind yourself how little you really are all the rest of the time, and the picture fails to communicate even that small small emotion. 

Park is a park, and cold is cold, but neither of those simple ideas can be justified appropriately through a technology that you can manoeuvre.  

You force her into standing in silly places and waiting, so you have something that she can give her mum when she gets home. 

You bite at each other almost every morning, because you have never spent so much confined time with someone that wasn't your sister, and even that took months to get used to. So you bite and you get irritated because you can't understand how someone can run on such a different clock to your own. You question your habits, because they're so different to your own. You ask if she was the right person, but how can any person be right when you shut off one so easily. You come home and you know you need to practice your patience and you need to remember how inspirational you find her every other day. You know sometimes she is selfish and sometimes she tries to hand you back rubbish so she doesn't have to take it down when your hands are full, but you still admire that spirit that runs free in her, that same one that sits down and is patient within you.

You know ducks, you've seen them before. You used to love a duck named Kitty, that you probably scared the living crap out of every time you tried to play with, but you can't ever forget that duckling, and you don't ever try to walk past a duck and think: "that is just a duck", you will always walk past and know how fucking cute that little waddling ducky is. 

You need pictures of you for your father, ones with out your glasses, because he doesn't like you to wear them to often, and you have to be dressed in clothes that are not challenging the authorities of society, and you need to possibly be smiling, with no food, because it is most likely you will be eating a type of food that he doesn't appreciate you putting into yourself, and you need to possibly be doing something that will one day benefit your education as there is little else in the world that he sees reason for, if not for your education, well you always thought so, so as a child you seek to learn things for the sake of knowledge, and then you go into university and you learn history of art, because you love the passion that flows throw works of art that history doesn't have and you study literature because some times one person can organise words that pierce you deeper than sunlight in winter can and you seek so immerse yourself in an art that strives to induce that feeling. But it doesn't matter, because he always just wanted you to be financially secure, and no knowledge of beauty will get close to that kind of security, so you disappointed him anyway because you are most parts of a person that he can not and never will understand, but you've learnt enough to know that, and that it is ok.

You walk through a grave yard, and it is nothing like one you have seen before, because the ones back home normally have a modest plaque or are ashes in the wind. So you find walking into this huge space paying homage to death a little out of your usual, where you walk for hours trying to find a name that rings a bell, but isn't on the strictly selected listed map that the entrance provides you with. You examine the difference between the graves that have been managed and those that have been neglected, you wonder the upkeep and the admittance process behind gaining a grave site within the walls, and imagine the measurement of success one would feel upon getting buried in there, but you immediately withdraw the question realising that the subject wouldn't feel anything and won't ever again.

Your room mate meets a gentleman while clubbing on a cruise and takes him home to sleep with him, and you mean while find this young thing and take him home to sleep with. You make him be the breaker between you and the other two also in the bed, as you have had too much to drink and need to rest on the side closest to the bathroom for emergency's sake. So you wake up in the morning and reacquaint yourself with this amazing guy who walked the winter streets of Paris with you at 5 in the morning so your mate could get a lay in which she lets you know in the morning wasn't really worth all the trouble. But you at minimum gain a touching insight into the life of an African man of who migrated to France and now can not visit his home country due to political unrest caused by the country's political system in which he currently resides in. Tears fill yours eyes as you try to imagine a life similar, but you can't and you never will be able to get close because you are white and you are a protected female, and you are on the side that takes their children away, even if you are from a different country and a different race you know that you are part of the problem that is bigger than you, and you have no idea of how to even begin to show how truly sympathetic you are, let alone undo any of it. So instead you shower and hope he goes soon, so you and your friends can spend the day travelling to the huge chateau that housed one of the monsters responsible for this gross misuse of power excised over people of a different colour. You go to Versailles. 

You look around at the gardens that surround the palace and you imagine how little has changed in two hundred years, when back home, your country as you know it has barely had western civilisations devour it for two hundred years. 

You think if this was your house what you would do with all the extra space, but again your limits display themselves as you can scarcely believe the steps you take are in a realm of reality, little further than to imagine owning something bigger than your double bed. 

You are asked that because you are from the southern hemisphere, if the maps that we are taught in school is also upside down, so that Australia is placed at the top, while Europe, Asia and America placed at the bottom, you laugh as a reply. To stumble into a room where this faces up to the guests walking through and your next breath is drawn in warmly with a scent of pride upon it.

The detail that has gone into every room that you walk through again inspires you to try harder in your own life, as you see each little brush stroke upon the wall that represents one flower, that stepped back from, decorate the entire bedroom symbolises the small efforts that need be continually applied in your life. 

A simple stair well carved from marble, highlights the lacking that is upon everyones life.

Your favourite room contains your favourite furnitures, of beds and lounges that are covered in flowers and leaves unique in each way.

You think thoughts of child birth, and doing so with spectators.

You feel amounts of pride and love when you are accomplishing something rather than watching her sleep at home. As you rest early and she rests later, you know so, because she has many pictures of you settling into bed on evenings, while you've none of her in the morning as she walked around half awake drinking her wine. The internet was your biggest trial, as only one could be on it at a time, and you would grow fastly impatient when you would be dressed ready to leave with no internet to hold your interest while she lazily reclined closer to the kitchen, sipping and laughing, while sexually exciting her boyfriend with her words of fidelity.

You know you are vain, and it helps to see the remains of someone who trumps you at what you know to be a personal fault.

You were shocked the first time you saw armoured men walking around, as you are not used to them at home. They walk in their pairs with intimidating looks upon their face, though you see they are real people, that too frightens you because you know the capabilities of a normal person, for you are a women and to be so is already abnormal.

You walk out into the cold like you haven't known it, because before the train ride to get to where you are in life, you have never known it. Only heard of it, or seen such things through mediums, but it is white, tiny, soft, lightly, falling, but drifting, only to land somewhere totally unexpected and rest there until cold forces bind them, or warmth destroy them. You'd never seen snow, for twenty one years of your life, you have never once looked out and witnessed the gradual descent of the atmosphere.

There are photos like this, that make you think of the second in which you pressed the button to take shot. You are still smiling on the inside and you still long for the second to return and you are but a year ago, a week ago, your back in the moment, all over again. A little bit hungry cause you skipped breakfast as usual, and you are a little bit tired and hungover like most of the trip, and you are a little bit ancy like most of your life, and you are sitting between two people you really like, and there are plenty of places you could be at that exact time, but you are looking at this photo now thinking of all that, and only now you know you were really fucking happy. Because you don't really know at the time, but you can safely from home admit that you would happily trade all your savings to be back again, you know you were happy.

He wasn't ready when you took this picture, because you didn't want him to be, but he surprised you, still to hold a pout as you pressed the button on the camera that was resting on your lap subtly pointing up at the young man in front of you.

She wondered through some sites and into and then out of some monuments and you stood there and acted as the good friend taking snaps of the moment.

You admire greenery of the grass, as it isn't the same at home.

You admire the amount of moss that grows, because few places grow it at home, and fewer places it remains.

You remember being cold in your clothes, and they would just not warm up, like nothing you have known at home, to instantly get warmer when moving, or the length of being outside forced one to acclimatise to the weather, your inability to do that here, was something new.

You included such an unready picture, because it makes you think of your childhood, when you would physically participate in things such as this picture, or would insist on them taking a picture of you doing the same thing, and you think of when that spirit in you was broken. Your instinct wants to claim that it was around the first time you got your first period that you declined to partake in climbing games, or was it just high school. Tree climbing used to be such a propionate afternoon activity and you had moments of thinking you would literally never let growing up get to that aspect of your life. But thinking now, there are so many things you let your child self down over, and so few things you have lived up to. 

You want to remember that for one hundred and twenty years people have been able to know where they are within Paris because of that tower that resides in between the trees of this picture. The moments of walking in this large park, and putting aside how cold you were, you could be reminded that you were in a foreign country because that horizon is not one that you are familiar with, not like home anyway.

You made her pose like this half in the sun, because you always like the portraits of individuals in the sun, as it washes over their skin to make parts within them glow. You don't support fur, and your don't support fake fur as it perpetuates an image that you are not comfortable with. 

This picture was taken to remember the dinner party we had as a payment for the hospitality that our friends had shown us. It is almost luck that no others came, as you doubt we would have been able to seat them.

You smile as you remember how hungry we had gotten all the guests because the other half had insisted on napping rather then prep cooking, so dinner was extremely late, which is really the fashion, so she might have been right in doing so. But as dinner was being completed, our guests rushed to assist in dishing it out. Three boys completely capable, and adorable.

You think of how Michelle had told Tom, that she would get a picture of everyone wearing the hat and so therefore was able to capture a picture of him wearing the hat, in which she instantly confined to Bradley and you that she has no intention in asking anyone else to place the hat on.

You enjoy this picture as is summarises the manifestation of Michelle's personality when she is around. You've admired her as you have mentioned above, but you know that it is more than just an inspiration, it is almost an encouragement to drop your own inhibitions and that scares and excites you. So you think that forever for certain, you won't let her old soul drift too distant from yours because you feed from it. Her magic at play upon Bradley as his reserve is forced out of him when confronted with Michelles bum, and he knows not how to react other than an out gaping laugh. While Rashed occupying the front right hand corner, mulls over his acceptance of the fact that he is about to receive dirty insight from Michelle, like strangers would.

You think of the smut that you know Malo to have spoken, and you smile, you think of the righteousness that Rashed as motivated from a group and you smile, you think of Michelle's buttery mouth melting and you smile.

You ate vegan food, that was previous unimaginable, and post meal remain indescribable.

There was the visit to the Louvre in which things where gained, and sickness was felt. 

This is the type of picture of you're half asleep while Michelle dwells awake and alive as ever.

The excitement was running through the veins as we sat patiently, waiting for our joining flight to bring us to our destination, then our holiday was so optimistic, always a high point.