Met Through Graphite

Part I

No wonder Paris is considered the most romantic place in the world. I found my love there and she hers. I'm a psychologist in the home of the Eiffel Tower and not to brag but doing quite well. The typical psychologist, done with life and work. Ironic really, how we get people out of that state of mind. We draw all the negative energy from them and fill their heads with serotonin. (For the masses out there who don't do science, serotonin is the chemical released when you're in a state of happiness. That....was a joke. please don't click out. Pretty please.) I had an apartment near the Montparnasse Tower in Paris. Yes, "had". I went back to my roots with her, India. Enough chit-chat, let me tell you how I met the lady in graphite. A senora so enchanting, a beauty herself was ashamed of her.

On a dark, gloomy, and cold evening in Paris, I was heading home to cook some paella accompanied by the finest wine in the world, Domaine Leroy Chambertin Grand Cru. Too much? Yeah, that's a lie. I was gonna drink the cheapest wine in the store. Cheap yet delectable. As always, I found Edna sitting outside the building. Edna was a homeless woman who resold magazines for a few additional Euros. "How's it going, Edna? How's my favorite homeless person?" Yeah...we're pretty close like that. She replied," Hey Karthik(in the thickest French accent. Sounded like she said cat-hick). How's my least favorite comedian?" Hurt, I replied," Oh my God Edna! Really? You ruined my day. Well, it's night I know. Shut up." And jokingly strode away to the elevator. I then fulfilled my wish of the paella and the finest wine and decided to go out for a stroll around the city. 

Edna disappeared for some reason. Could not see her anywhere in the vicinity. Probably found a better neighborhood to sit homeless in. Sad really how so many people in the world are going through the same condition as our dear Edna. There are so many valid attempts to make the lives of such people less miserable and yet a majority of them are left out. 

Personally, I am a very melancholic and dark person. I love it when there's an overcast and the winds are blowing fast! It seems like every tree is going to get ripped from its roots and fly away into oblivion. You know, "the end of the world" vibes. "Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet."-Bob Marley. How beautiful are those lines? Coming from a full-time stoner, I'd say they're more than beautiful. Now I got this off the internet, I may try coming up with my own deep lines for the rain but don't get your hopes too high. 

I am also a chain-smoker, a major turn-off for most of you but hey, it is what it is. So I retrieved the pack of cigarettes from the hidden pocket of my trench coat and pulled a cancer stick out and placed it between my lips, grabbed a lighter from the other hidden pocket, and lit it. The nicotine getting infused into my bloodstream, my worries disappearing, and me being on the top of the world. Only Labrinth's music would make this a perfect night. I put the buds into my ears and hit play. Ah...pure bliss. 

The stillness at night is what gets me out of my home. Just me, my music and Paris. And sometimes my gasper of course. Living in Paris has it's own pros and cons, like any other place in the world. Here, getting fresh air is as rare as a thunderstorm in the Sahara. All the closed shops with items they have to offer placed for viewing pleasure. The occasional sound of my footsteps through the music. The night sky lit with numerous stars gives me a feeling that we're all part of something much bigger. Something we may never realize exists or even if we do, never be able to figure out it's secret.

Place du Tetre; one of the most visited places in Paris. A place where ridiculously talented artists are given a small space to showcase their skills and art. I was casually walking through the Tetre when I saw a portrait that made me stop right where I was and made me stare into it's eyes like the moon. I kept being infatuated with the beauty of the lady in the portrait. I got lost in a world where only the two of us exist, in an unbreakable trance that could only be broken if she were out of my sight. And that's exactly what happened. The artist was winding up his items and about to leave when I stopped him and asked him about that particular piece of his. 

The artist was quite old, with long curly white hair tied in a bun. He was a tall gentleman with a short but wide nose. He wore considerably old spectacles with a circular frame and steel rim. He wore a shirt with long stripes of dull-colored embroidered threads that ran down the shirt and a pair of simple blue trousers. 

"Good Evening young lad. How can I help you?" he said, in French of course. I replied, again in French of course,"Yes sir, could you please tell me who this lady in your portrait is?" I looked at him patiently, wanting to know the answers to my questions. He looked at me first, perplexed and then smiled. "That face is of a woman not very far from here. She doesn't speak much. So I thought she's an accountant or something. Beautiful enough to become a model, if you ask me. I do not know anything about her, if that's what you're here for. Not her name, not her address, nothing. One fine day she just waltzed right in here and sat down. So I picked up my pencil and made this. But I do know where she went after being here. She went on to Italy. Again I do not know what for and whether or not she's still there. You wanna buy it?" He said very calmly. "Yes, please. How much is it for?" (ok, that's it for now. pls let me know if you want a second part in the comments. Thank you so much for reading this :))