Paris [Theme] Page 2

Paris for me is to live on the streets and try to get it down on paper. You know?
- I always wanted to run away and become an artist to live in the attic, to be poor, but free.
- You could not stand two days. There is no hot water and not to eat caviar.
- I hate caviar. And I hate when people tell me what I dream and what not. Everyone thinks I'm effeminate and fragile, but it is not. I'm strong and tough like a horse. I want to do something and not just be a decoration.

I saw Rome, Paris, Athens,
And looked at the mole on my shoulder;
I was sure; heaven could not be in life
But he's enormous, he lived silently in you.

In Paris dying of the summer. Yellow flashed in the foliage suddenly as gray. Sound of women's heels were muffled by the clatter of horses ' hoofs. Sex is called intimacy. My grandfather was close to half of Paris.

- Where are you going, miss?
In Paris.
Train heading to Melbourne, with stops in Hail Wail and birch.
- Then to Melbourne.

Autumn in Paris on the Boulevard Saint-Michel
Quietly snuck in yesterday and with me
Was found there, under the thick foliage,
Quiet from the heat.
I walked to the Seine then, and in the shower
Broke out suddenly hvorostenko songs
Smoky purple lights, the harbinger of Death.
Autumn caught up with. And shuddered Boulevard,
Autumn lips I whispered something.
Variegated leaves-jokers
With branches dove off.
... Summer woke up. And in the same moment
Autumn, laughing, from Paris fled.
All of it just I and foliage
Slightly trembled.

I can only imagine I haven't seen you for a month. I have seen the new moon, and you were gone. I have seen sunsets and sunrises, and your a wonderful person never. The pieces of my heart are so small that they could pass through the eye of a needle. I miss you like the sun in the middle of winter pining for the flowers. Without beauty, which stretched its rays, heart freezes like an abyss into which plunged his separation. I go to the tournament in Paris, he seems to me a desert is, if you're not there. Hopefully. Hope gives love. Hope rescues. It helps me to survive till evening and then to morning. And although you're somewhere disappeared, I hope Ty again to look at you. With love and with all my heart, forever your faithful knight Ulrich.

- What's going on here?
- L'm wondering the dead. Rosen is dead. My fate is now resolved.
- To take you to Paris?
- No. In your place I would not be standing so close to me - in the line of fire.

Paris brings a sense of style. Because the French tell their children: "Beautiful, beautiful" - while the Russian "Good or bad".

I want on the next boat to Turkey and then to Paris, To Australia, to Argentina, to Antarctica, anywhere! Why louts so long captivated our country?
- I want to swim. You can?
- Come on.
- Turn away, please!
I'm not squeamish.
- You on erotica drawn?
- Yes, I saw you - there's no eroticism... <...> Let's dive in, be a prude.

When I was at the front and was captured by the Germans, they said we were lucky because, most likely, we will survive the war. Those of us arrested, sent to Dresden - a city with statues and zoos, as Paris. We lived in a slaughterhouse and every morning he worked in a factory for the production of malt syrup - it is taken by pregnant women. And then one day, 13 February 1945, sounded the siren and we went down into the earth in a big meat refrigerator. When we left, the city was gone.

People who do not have enough money for a passport, often consider themselves poor. There is no possibility to buy a ticket even just in Turkey or Egypt, to see Venice or Paris - the city of dreams. It seems that there is a special kind of happiness, but here only starvation wages and survival. But these people have something valuable, what they do not suspect. They have an even greater wealth. What? Family, friends, favorite people the opportunity every day to meet with them, to see the sunrise and the sunset. "The most expensive things are not things" - it says so in the quote of one of the unknown. And maybe if you can't afford to see other countries, you the prescribed fate to have incredible happiness here at home, side by side with the most expensive and loved ones.

New York. Perhaps the only city in the world, able to compete with Paris in the sense of the utter otherness of it.

You have no idea what these people [Parisians] are bastards. I feel bad about them. They are so damn 'intellectual' and rotten before that I can't stand it another second. It's really too much for me. I'd rather sit on the ground and sell tortillas, than have to deal with these "artistic" bitches of Paris. They sit for hours in a café, warming their precious talents, and conduct endless conversations about culture, art, revolution and so on and so forth, thinking that they are gods of the world, dreaming of fantastic nonsense and spoiling the air of the eternal ideas that will never come to life.

In Paris should have come only in order to understand why Europe is rotten, why are all these useless people gave rise to Hitler and Mussolini. I swear on my life I'm going to hate this place and these people until death.