| Everything Except The Tattoos Is A Metaphor. |
| Written by Brendon Green |
| Wednesday, 20 January 2010 06:55 |
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I saw a guy kick a car today. It didn’t stop at the crossing to let him and his friend cross, so he punted it. The car kept going but then stopped just up the road, probably because it had just been kicked. So the guy left his friend and ran up the car, yelled something, and kicked it again. It left a dent in the bumper, I was impressed. The kicker walked away completely calm and continued his conversation with his friend. Thus encapsulating all that I am feeling about leaving Paris (anger and injustice?). Or maybe it’s just a fun little vignette. I’m not actually angry, nor do I feel hard done by. I am still going through life, in the words my university lecturer used to describe me - ‘blissfully unaware’. Although there is a slight trepidation building as I plan my way home. It’s a long way to go, and I’m going to do a lot on the way. That’s almost a metaphor for life, or at least a high school cross country race (in both cases most of the things I do along the way involve stopping for a rest). Meanwhile I will keep myself busy with the soldes (sales) going on. Apparently there’s only two months of the year when shops are allowed to have sales. (Imagine K-Mart only having 2 sales a year, it’s both impossible and frightening). But that is the lay, and January is one of those hallowed months. Everywhere and everything is 20-50% off. I’m a bit tempted to get a tattoo purely to take advantage of the discount on offer. I’m also trying to convince myself that shredded beef is a legitimate main pizza topping. But that is a separate, personal battle. Hopefully I can restrain myself enough that I return to NZ with only a half priced T-Shirt, and not a permanent Eiffel Tower with a smiley face tattoo on my left calf. Although a Dolphin with Sarkozy’s face just above my ankle? That I could be talked into… |
