It was around that time in Paris, when the city through my eyes collapsed- all at once.
In the fabric district, street pedlars alone cull and call like wild men outside the holly cite. The market square strewn with cardboard and plastic. I can barely walk, let alone breathe.
I saw the other side of the city of lights-
and I was tired.
But from that came something, maybe kindness, maybe resolve
No- do not take this last love of mine from me.
I retraced my steps in the arts district, and I was almost run over by traffic (several times).
Paris France is a strange place,
where a spider bite once nearly hospitalized me.
But that was a long time ago now. The old graffiti I photographed when I was a kid is gone now, painted over I think. Different memories in the same place. All of them disquieted in the eyes of the Law.