Got back from Paris today with lots of notes, and suddenly I have a tight schedule; this weekend I’ll be swamped, then Monday I leave again. This is highly unusual for my sluggish schedule.
So first of all I turned 30 in Paris. Why Paris? Why turn 30? At 30 the pressure of time is unavoidable; there’s that round number smiling, asking you what you’ve done so far (and there are so many booming talents nowadays). Then again I “failed” very early on, and so I missed a lot of goals people ache to achieve. My current situation has that air of indulgence and luck that could make a session with a mirror go awkward. That made me climb up the walls for a few months. Now that I’m back, I feel like I found something to the side, ideas on how to transform my life in ways that are “generational”, might take 10 years or more, and will take time. This is something I never bothered with, and I will wear my twenties proudly for that.
I went to Paris for the fourth time. My previous visits were romantic somehow, but things went sour anyway. Let’s see what happens now. Paris is unmovable; the core capital of the 19th Century is still there. Culturally it has become american, appropriating things from other cultures with genuine curiosity; you can ignore most “french” icons in favour of everything else, but in return they will boast that French (white, upper-class) urban way of life. I didn’t find that shine in labor-intensive London, nor Berlin, which still seems too into itself, even if they have their little ghettos and art shows.