19 years and 4 months before my flesh first made contact with air some words were uttered. The setting was a small cafe in a small town in France that doesn't even exist. Chez Blanc. September 3rd 1963 3:43 AM. Nearly 30 years later on a sweltering July night a wide eyed and hopeful boy lay battling his need for sleep by going over every detail of his day. 3:43 AM subjugation by sleep. Boy loses. The screen goes black and the acrid scent of non pasteurized cheese punches him awake nasally as the hint of fresh baked baguettes dawdles in the background of the darkness. Insert one tower of Eiffel. Insert cobblestone streets. Sterotypical French men with black and white striped shirts, berets, thin moustaches, red scarves and filterless Gitanes begin to float down from the heavens and crowd the streets. Lamp posts and crossoints begin to come to life and dance happily as a man plays an ironically ominous tune on his accordion standing on the street corner. Two gentlemen which do not fit the scene sit across from each other at a distant cafe sipping coffee, eating pastries and smoking cigarettes.
eventually continued.
eventually continued.
yourself:
nice bro... keep it... eventually... see you at the salt mines..