Stylo Noir in Paris

I know that most of the people think of Paris as a very romantic capital.

A kind of “love nest” out of time, were persons look in each others eyes… and fell deeply in love.

Well. Sounds good. But reality is very different. Paris is a very cold city. People like me that goes living in the city center find themselves strangly … alone.

It is not a place for falling in love, or for looking for a person to fall in love with and build a future together.

It is a European capital that stands for its productive power. Work is the keyword. And the key to Paris differents worlds as well. Everything depends on how much you earn, on what kind of job you’re doing. The type of job qualify and define you as person.

Talking about me…. as i do not work as “a very well know artist”… it’s like i count nothing and so i am not an artist.

What i create seems to be meaningless in a Parisian’s eyes.

Target is: first, be famous.

But that sound crazy to me. Art should not be a slave of social musts. Art is a weapon again ignorance, againts the rules (sometimes wrong) of the common sense.

Fame should not be the mainstay of art.

Some many faces

So much silence.

Thousands of glances … unspoken wishes.
Lonely souls bound to each others
so many hands and eyes, that you will see just once.

I feel terribly lonely.