Arts and tarts

 "It is better to travel well than to arrive." A Buddha

Paris Paris Paris, love hate, hate love, yes maybe no, it's another love story. The exploration of the city keeps going as the first spring sun rays pop up from behind the clouds. Some pray with colors, here we got chocolate eggs, rabbits and bells, everywhere nature is blooming again.
If I have not given any news for a while, it's because I have been writing in french on OrganiKarT. New test, new platform, bip bip, is anybody out there?
French english, english french, this question has been an interesting one for many years. What language to write in? So to answer this question equally, I decided to write in french when I feel like it, and in english when I feel like it, sometimes it's even nice to speak in franglish.

So, some news in english. After landing from ....oh wait that's another story.
Back in Panam, we continue to visit the city, one neighborood at a time. There is so much to do in a big city, that we could easily get lost in the Paris labyrinth. Yet, yet, with all it's got to offer, the movies, the restaurants, the arts a gogo, the city simply does not...feed my soul, if such a thing even exists. Nothing personal dear Paris, it's not you, it's me, I have changed, and I am afraid that we will have to go our seperate ways for a while anyhows.

To enjoy the best we can, we walk, we eat, we sleep, we drink, we see tons of stuff, art so much art, art everywhere, it's like an art OD. Even the subway is full of tarts, it's art a gogo fest, it's the big city, it's culture in a cup, it grows as fast as yogourt does. Like foam, it takes up life of it's own, the city is ruled by large advertising campaigns. The walls change color a few times a week, huge colored prints pasted, cut, paste, redecorate. Movies change twice a week, which lives me to wander:" who has time for all of this tarts?".
Sell sell, buy buy...and I look for a parc.

Walking around St Michel, saw an amazing thing: "it's so beautiful says the woman next to me, a tear comes to my eye." A tear was in her eye, or maybe it was mine, I am not sure, I just know it was beautiful. A man with a piano, sitting and playing the most perfect symphonie, behind him St Michel killing the dragons, around, the tourist with wide open eyes soaking in the scene. Yes, that is Panam, spring is in the air, life starts again after a long winter sleep.

For some skin art, we of course went to the Mondial du Tatouage, organized by Tintin and his crew. Big big names were there, a once in a lifetime meeting of the freaks. Tattoos tattoos and more tattoos, my God, so much talent on this planet, I get height fright sometimes. Tattoo art, once upon a time to present time, the arts evolve faster than the skin grows old. What a journey it's been from the ugly pin ups and badly drawn sailor ships, to the sureal, ultra realistic paintings etched on the skins of today. Full power artist on the edge of creation. Museums are for the dead, life lives on skin. The show was so big that it took 3 days to digest, art hangover, Paris burps.

Then there are the parks, the green oasis, Luxembourg, Tuileries, Jardin des Plantes and orchids, so many orchids, all artificial, all perfectly manicured, all is perfect in the best of world. Got hooked on Spider card game, shortly, me not so good, so decided to write some more. The Castor one day wrote:" To write about yourself, you have to write about everything else.". Thanks Simone, and yes, I did leave a subway ticket on your grave,even had a crêpes with that cider!

One day, I want, I will, write what's really going on in that little brain of mine. But I am so good at hiding, and really, the Self, in constant change, motion is all there is, so I move. One day, I'll retire, by then I might have forgotten it all. Life but a dream, and better eat the dream while alive and kicking. So I eat, I drink, and I be merry. Art art art, tarts I like, some meringue with that?

Spring coming, it's time to go discover what's going on down south, direction Bordeaux, wine capitale. Need a breathe of fresh air, need to hear more birds, need to roll in the dirt. Kids are coming out to play in the parcs, and so are we. So Perigord we go...be back in a few...see you there.
Om Shanti Om:)