paris

This feels good. Motion. Music. Snaking towards avignon on a bus and picturing the route to be shaped like a question mark. Definitely feel like Paris is calling my name; ot necessarily museums or any sort of famous spot so much as just the streets and neighborhoods.

I met a man on my way to the bus today who I recognized from the hostel. His name was Bernd. I think he was in his late thirties or early forties, with a receding hairline of grey and a very angular structure to his skull. It was a trip looking at his face, because it was so expressive, especially his eyes, which had this intense searching quality in them. They reminded me of the eyes of young smart dogs whose eyes are constantly sucking up every visual cue of information they can find. His hobby, he said, was photography. Putting them eyes to use.

It was funny - he teaches French, yet it seemed that we were both at the same speaking level. We eventually conversed in English but at first we were each holding our own in French. He said that when you're teaching a language you only really use the basics on a regular basis and so no matter how often he comes to France he has to relearn the language. We sat in the shade and talked for a long while. This was far from his first time in Arles and I really understood what he saw to love about it, especially as a photographer. Every time that you turn a corner down a new street in Arles, you're struck by how picturesque the arrangement of everything is.

I wonder where wild horses sleep. I mean, I know there aren't even many wild horses these days but do those that remain have preferred sleeping spots that they repeatedly return to? Or do they run around all day and just stop wherever and stand and sleep? I wonder what they'd think about stables. Sitting in a stable all day. Munch munch chew. Wag tail. Look left, look right. Munch munch chew. Horrified, I bet! WHat do stabled horses think about behind those eerie black eyes, those looking glasses through to the twilight zone, those oil slicks of madness?

I bought this journal expecting it to - well, without any expectations really. But here I am with only 13 pages left after ten days. I am churning myself out and it feels damn good.