Paris is my escapism. Paris is a new-world in a world that has become dull and predictable. Paris is an existential reinvention like one of those Mr. Hemingway must have gone through, reading his obituary twice, on two different occasions. Thoughts of Sartre echo through my mind as I have arrived: “Everybody has the right to be free”, and I go to his grave in Montparnasse to see whether this is true or not. He lies there still.
Great stuff! Prose poem, if indeed a poem at all. But, that said, it is very coherent and thoughtful, imparts a lot of interesting information along the way, name-checks a couple of the Greats - so what's not to like?
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