Mora Imbrioscia 2015
It is our first day in the lovely croissant eating city called Paris. We arrived last night at 2am from our flight. As I walked out of the terminal, I could already smell the crispy crepes being cooked and the strong dior perfume from a small café that was on the other side of the airport. My family and I are staying in a petit apartment in the central part of Paris, near a local art gallery. The apartment has the capacity of holding a small group of people (luckily we are only a family of three). It has a tiny living room with a TV, a balcony with a round glass table for morning breakfast that looks towards the city, a kitchen that is the size of my bathroom back home with exotic tiles on the back splash wall.
This morning we had a rocky sleep-in from the jetlag that we have to face, since it was midday we decided to finally hope out of bed and explore this wild city. As we were walking down the street, I could see the busyness of markets where people were bidding for goods, small cafes with a young lady smoking a cigarette whilst having her daily coffee and tiny little shops on the corner of the street where antique bags can be bought. In my small hand bag where my personal belongings can be found, I keep my treasured book that my mother gave to me. It’s called “How to be Parisian Wherever You Are”, I take this book everywhere with me. It is a small guide to a daily life of a Parisian lady, from what she eats, how to host a dinner party, loving someone, how to hold cigarette and the true coordination of how to function a Parisian wardrobe.
One of the major things I noticed was that in every door entry of a restaurant, café or boutique, there were people smoking. All ages, from a spunky fifteen year old to older senior residents, each of them holding a lighted cigarette and enjoying life. The smell was toxic as we walked past the gorgeous buildings. It was such a cultural thing that it over grew to young adults and seem that it would be a normal act for them to smoke. Although on the upside, the weather was gorgeous with the sun radiating onto our skin, so we went to the local market where they sold fresh fruit, vegetables, flowers and handmade things. Dad bought a bag of apples from a local farmer for a snack whilst we walked past the stalls, they were big and red with a super juicy crunch and sweet flavours swirling round your mouth. A nice looking boy was sitting on a stool playing his guitar, he placed his guitar case down in front of him where people could drop some money for him. It was the morning and he didn’t have much change in the case, so I placed 18 euros (which is around 28 dollars in Australian) and shared a long 5 second smile with him.
We’ve finished the day off coming home to our apartment at 12am with our stomachs full from all of the mouth-watering food we ate at the restaurant down the street. I am now lying in bed with a warm camomile tea in my hands and reading my ‘How to be Parisian Wherever You Are’ book. I’m about to placed my head on the pillow and doze off knowing that tomorrow would be a day for exploring this exciting city.
We are all fish in the ocean.
The water is thick for some but for others the water is thin as seaweed.
Big fish prey on the weak and small fish swim too deep to the sea bed just to see the sunlight from above in the crystal waters.
It is the blameless cycle that revolves around us, the current and waves move back and forth; a fish can’t blame the ocean.
“Justice” doesn’t come from the holding power of ones fin, it comes from the brave choice that one fish makes.