rooftop-soliloquy

Mine was the twilight and the morning. Mine was a world of rooftops and love songs.

From all that I saw,and everywhere I wandered,I learned that time cannot be spent,It only can be squandered.

It was a time I slept in many rooms, called myself by many names. I wandered through the quarters of the city like alluvium wanders the river banks. I knew every kind of joy, ascents of every hue. Mine was the twilight and the morning. Mine was a world of rooftops and love songs.

After joyfully working each morning, I would leave off around midday to challenge myself to a footrace. Speeding along the sunny paths of the Jardin du Luxembourg, ideas would breed like aphids in my head__or creative invention is easy and sublime when air cycles quickly through the lungs and the body is busy at noble tasks.

Rich will be my life if I can keep my memories full and brimming, and record them on clear-eyed mornings while I set joyously to work setting pen to holy craft.

Champagne arrived in flûtes on trays, and we emptied them with gladness in our hearts_ for when feasts are laid and classical music is played, where champagne is drunk once the sun has sunk and the season of summer is alive in spicy bloom, and beautiful women fill the room, and are generous with laughter and smiles_ these things fill men__ hearts with joy and remind one that life__ bounty is not always fleeting but can be captured, and enjoyed. It is in writing about this scene that I relive this night in my soul.