Paris is a living, breathing, thriving art scene. Street faces are ever changing. Every fortnight, an anonymous fresco replaces another. So much is exposed, fleetingly, then disappears, covered and covered again. So much is shown. So much is hidden, brushed over, never to be seen again. Advertisements
“What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity. These are but trifles, to be sure; but scattered along life’s pathway, the good they do is inconceivable.” ― Joseph Addison
We are constantly walking between halls, of rooms, we can no longer enter – or cannot yet see – On a thin thread that ceases to exist, as soon as we land the next step. There is no walking back. No speeding up.
– ART – Art makes the world a better place. It stirs emotions in people. It brings to light horrors, beauties, and shows everything in between. It reveals what would otherwise remain unseen. Beware though and look past the frame into its soul.
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.” – Robert Frost
“The best preparation for tomorrow is doing your best today.” H. Jackson Brown Jr.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all – Emily Dickinson
Vapors emanate – Hot, white, smokey clouds of hope Warming up my lips.
“Everyday I play “you and I” together, our love, our life, our story, the whole of us. I patch you up with memories. You appear to me, ever so perfect, distant and ethereal. Evanescent. I have tried to concentrate, meditate, but I cannot hold on to the sweet apparition of your face,
When he arrived at her house, he saw him hug her on her porch. He felt a hot burning sensation rise from his core, take a hold of him and fire up his cheeks, overpowering his mind, and causing his limbs to tremble and twitch, making him feel weak.
He remembered how he felt the day he first laid eyes on her. He fell for her on the spot. Her shiny black curls cascading on her shoulders, she was wearing an empire white dress with large strokes of forest green paint printed on it. They formed abstract patterns reminiscent of spring and flowers.
“All he wanted to do was help her, protect her. All he ended up doing was to tear her heart apart. He looked back at this whole mess, trying to pinpoint when it all went out of hand. Then it all came rushing back to him. Not the dark times, but the great ones.”