Homeless in Paris Homeless in Paris | Page 11

B"H There can never be continuity in the extra -dimension where Euclidian lines meant to portray dimensional images on a page that seemingly dissipate into the vanishing point. I became familiar with the lifestyle we call homeless, people who m ride through the night getting on and off busses in a cat a mouse game with the police and bus companies. The police in pursuit of a cultural entertainment by forcing them to whimper, stammer, and hap lessly endeavor to stand upright while drowning in a drunken e motiona l stupor. Human resiliency; people switch their facial muscles into all kinds of contortions, emphatic characteristics, tones and all - encompassing determination to survive. We are neither indigenous nor immigrants as we strut upon the stage that is our time in the world. Passing Thoughts I don't know what to make of my feelings of futility with the authoring of a literary project such as this so I keep up the effort in blind faith that it finds a readership. It bears mentioning that I fail to offer the accounts on a particular subject in chronologica l sequence. It may be said there is reason to my madness. Sometimes, I bring up a subject and it causes me a great deal o f anguish. In order to continue, I need to take a brief interlude, which I do by careening into streams of thought that lead into tributaries that flow into rivers and finally cascade into oceans. It's like taking deep breaths in order to calm oneself, to soothe the disruptive feelings that may hinder the contiguous journey. There's also the fear of disputations anybody may offer regarding the topic at hand, so I present lengthy explanations . Perhaps a trigger will ready the reader to understand when I've gone off o n a tangent, something like saying, "on this topic" will warn the reader I'm about to jump around from one scene to another, in the hope to discern "to now here have I arrived !" I doubt the reader has any assurance as to his own identity; as it is, I have changed mine fro m one extre me to another severa l times during my lifetime. So many of us are adapting cha meleons : Managing character identification is an exercise program in socia l graces, "he who pays the piper picks the tune," and I always thought myself the monkey at the end o f a leash. You see, reader this soliloquy is an editing of the notebook many years (if not a decade) after the same me, I, and myself have written a perspective of my being -I AM - neither defined nor confined by time ! The 11