Field 14 Behind The Scenes

The smooth flowy sounds of jazz filled the evening air as I walked along the sidewalk on the Boulevard des Invalides, tucking my coat close to me to ward off the harsh winter breeze. I had stopped counting how many days I had spent in this paradise, mostly because I had forgotten about what came before. That suffering was enough to drive any man even beyond insanity, you couldn’t blame me for pretending this was my life now. I walked into a cafe and up to the counter ordering a latte, warm and preferably with two shots of coffee, before sitting myself down by the window. The timid glitter of streets lamps plastered against the window, a soft, subtle glow lighting the cozy environment. I received my coffee and took to the streets once more, coat and coffee in hand to ward off the cold weather in my path. I took pleasure in my evening and night time walks, they were rather calming and as someone who never slept well, that was a miracle.  My walk through the cal

The world has bothered me with no end in sight, from the moment I was conceived in my mother's womb till now in the vast plains of this purgatory . I know am like a beggar, begging to the infinite realities for an end to this madness. I live like a puppet caught in someone else’s hand, captured and whirled in his powerful snare, fashioned from my earlier deeds, old and new. My past lives stick to me, pulling me down under overwhelming weight, dragging me along the harsh cold floor. Have mercy for I am empty and there is no place to rest, no destination for me to arrive at. I aimlessly wander, homeless and without any meaning in my life. I beg, do not spin me like this any longer, I am weak and have lost my strength. My soul cries in anguish, like those who cried before the Solstice once many moons ago. Who will take this grinding pain away from my frail body? On whom may I toss this heavy burden? No one will take this pain away from me, so in my lamentation, I call out t

1 951  Paris, France Awake. My eyes squint as the blazing sun shines its warm rays of light down on me. I can distantly hear the sound of an accordion and the smell of gasoline in the air, as my eyes begin to adjust to the brightness. I’m on a bench in a large plaza city life bustling all about me, and suddenly I remember everything the memories of my past striking me like a metal rod slams against a bell to chime it. ‘I’m supposed to be dead right? I did kind of shoot myself in the head just five minutes before, or at least I thought so? Is this France?’, I rush these thoughts through my head rapidly and stand up stumbling forwards in confusion and in about of losing my balance. I look up and smile at a young man walking by and get up. The breeze was wonderful, and even with the overwhelming smell of cars chugging away down the road to my left I also smelled the glorious scent of fresh baked goods waft by me. I assumed this was surely some sort of afterlife, some perfect wo