Placard upon placard...the word 'regrets' was plastered on the wall. I know the intention was to express sorrow over the passing, but how often to we set ourselves up for those needling results that prick you like a damn cactus on steroids. Having regret, most often implies hurting someone, which usually is your own self. However, I am glad for my imperfections, I have learned a hell of a lot from them. Before you start thinking I am this type-A perfectionist (well, wait, yes, that IS me), I really do try to find the rainbows after the storms come through. Except there are no rainbows during the winter months in Paris, just a dusting of snow.So I tried to find a few scenes of beauty along the way. Paris has a way about making death into art. The grave above amused me. It was a young man who died...in the prime of his life. I looked at every angle of this gent to note the top hat, the waist coat of the era, his boots, and something else. The gent's image, well, whoever was commissioned to make this likeness, took extra care to ensure the man's pants were unbuttoned. I immediately fell in love.
The beauty with the dead flowers..sitting on a bench to one of my personal favorites; Marcel Proust...a red rose and the thoughts of me reading, "The Prisoner" on the way to Paris.
It isn't a bad thing to walk through and visit...not at all. It puts it all into perspective. No regrets darling...not ever. We just do our best to not injure those along the way...our bodies do have an expiration date. I believe it is a good thing to remember to make the most of whatever time we DO have. We forget at times how temporary everything is, so don't make it more difficult than it needs to be.
Good journeys to all of you. Next stop...well...stay tuned.