Paris Burning: Part XI

Paris Burning: Flight is Freedom

Part XI

(Paris) The night went past when they should have shut it down and gone to bed; but the hours they kept now were like a family at a hospital death-watch. When it would end, they couldn't discern. Gathering together, sifting through the rubble, they hashed out details already known.

During their zig-zagged walk, holding each other's warm hand, gripping like a lifeline but also staring each other down, they discussed her leaving Paris, returning to America. Wine-stained lips expressed to the other how a split would rip them down the middle, or justifying it in the first place. 

Gabriel said, “We don’t split up as easily as you do…” Charlotte confessed, “my ancestors have been doing it for three generations. My dad, his sister, my sister, the uncles, hell. It’s a family tradition.”

“Maybe we can’t love,” she said. “But that’s so sad,” Gabriel replied.

They were different. Too young to realize that where they were unlike, or dissimilar, was where they fit together like puzzle pieces. Their families had contrasting ways of altering, unfamiliar methods of executing conflict. With immature priorities, too selfish right now to see how their unusual relationship might bind them for another chapter; instead, they came apart. 

“Work. We work. That’s for damn sure. We work!” “I’ll go back, and go to work. Study, make money, practice law, maybe some art. Gabriel, maybe I’ll be happy?” Wistful tears gently rolled out of her blue eyes.

Forlorn, he pleaded: “My heart is yours, Charlotte; it’s softer than yours, I couldn’t make the decision you’re making. It is not part of my soul.”

Most of the serious regret wouldn’t surface for decades; doubt planted like a small tree that would grow into a giant oak. Their special enchantment was more substantial and profound than their notion of love at this point in their lives, they were blind to it. And experimenting with this sort of ardor was reckless, presumptuous, like fooling around with hard drugs.

Charlotte: “I know Gabriel, I feel like I’m forfeiting mi âme doing this.” “Do you realize that? I don’t want to defend myself—I’m trying to define myself…”

Gabriel: “But if you give up your soul how will you make art?” She answered, but it was empty, “I’ll have to figure that one out.” She couldn’t speak to how long that would take.

I’m so fâché Charlotte! 

She replied, “Don’t riot, you’re not a tax protester—you’ve got no yellow vest.”

“Maybe I should leave Paris too.” “But where would I go?” “I’m a Frenchman!” They were exhausted and broken, and it was late; but neither of them were petty or belittling. The rioting comment was flippant, she didn’t expect him to compare her nature to the hurricanes back in Houston.

Smoke wafted through the air, sirens screamed in the night, and the CaféSociety changed forever. A peaceful summer they knew along the Seine dissolved into a cold, crisp, dark, winter of discontent. The city, like their relationship, simmered and popped with tension; she was determined by her will, and he was disillusioned by his love. She seemed practically gone, and he lost focus on art because of the vacuum developing in his heart. Paris crumbled before their eyes, and his dreams were now blurred, abstract, and vacuous. He went looking for a pencil.

There were “spaces” in his life, gaps in the story—white canvas, ready to be painted, or in reality blank for a reason. But why? What happened during those gaps? How many white pages can there be between episodes? He questioned himself, meditating on summer’s calm, anxious about next year. He longed for the stillness, the peace, but he felt the isolation, the loneliness, approaching, crouching at the door. Could he start another chapter without Charlotte? How would he fill the gap? He looked to the white; he could see the patterns of the Gods. Sharpening his pencil and going to work; he looked to the white.

(end)

-30-

Fibonacci Sequence

2018©fiction by Mark H. Pillsbury

[this last video talisman is dedicated to the real Gabriel & Charlotte, from Bruce & Bonnie:

https://youtu.be/ZTIu4UbkK94 all these short chapters are read together to say this...]

(Fair use of copyrighted work shown herein above is not an infringement of copyright law, 17 USC  Sec.107)

Fiction about The Fall: Ripped from the Headlines, 7.9 Kathmandu Super Earthquake

“I came to a place where every light is muted, which bellows like the sea beneath a tempest. The hellish hurricane, which never rests, drives on the spirits with its violence: wheeling and pounding, it harasses them. When they come up against the ruined slope, there are cries and wailing and lament, and there they curse the forces of the divine.” Inferno, Canto V (Dante)

(Nepal, April 28)

In Kathmandu you hold your breath when the mountain shakes.

 

We were rolled up tight as a cocoon; staying warm, huddled in a group on the side of Everest; where the temperature never exceeds zero centigrade.

Photo from AP

The weather was calm in the early dawn; yet my tent was still slightly visible, colored brightly orange like a road cone. Ready for the next stage of climbing, maybe one more full day; the caravan zig-zagged, reaching for the top of the world’s most prestigious mountain, but staging this evening just below the summit at a camp called, “Khumbu Icefall.”

This expedition was made of a diverse band of new and experienced climbers, and numerous, ever-present Nepalese Sherpas: part pack-mule, part ghostly guide, slowly leading us by taking the burden and responsibility of “feeling” the mountain. Only those with an indigenous attachment to Everest had the sensitivity to divine what the sounds, smells, shadows, and winds spoke to those daring enough to confront its harsh conditions. Costing over $30,000 to join an expedition, one of the more unusual reasons to climb was attending the wedding of Nepalese couple Moni Mule Pati and Pem Dorjeee, Sherpas on the mountain in 2004.

Copyright of Berta Tilmantaite (2015)

Everest is not the world’s tallest mountain but that’s like saying the Kentucky Derby isn’t the world’s only horse race. Those who argue that it is the highest mountain in the world put its height at 29,035 feet, about the altitude of a cruising commercial jet. The ultimate prize of every climber, it's as if reaching the summit allowed you to wear a coveted green jacket. Sticking out of the Himalayas, stretching 1,500 miles along the border of Nepal and China; in 2014, an avalanche killed 16 guides, so far, the greatest tragedy ever seen on Everest. Hundreds sleep on the mountain forever, their frozen graves permanently affixed to the mountainside; however, since 1953, more than 2,000 people have successfully climbed to the peak.

If the earth suddenly rips apart by 3 feet, how does it make a sound as if an old man belched?

The sudden jarring shift ripped away the tent from its anchor spikes, earth turning to jelly; but it was the high, rumbling roar, the sound of fury and death raining down from above, which was horrific. The shaking quickly subsided even though the actual earthquake lasted more than 90 seconds. The oncoming thunder of the falling snow resounded with intensity for a short time; before it hollered down from a rolling wave like a hundred thousand head of cattle driving across the dry plains of Texas.

Whether rolling or falling, the descent depressurized and disoriented the climbers, the floor dropping from under them in an instant. Plummeting over 1,000 feet in 5 seconds, confined in millions of tons of hard packed snow; the most immediate threats were suffocation, wounds, and hypothermia. Tumbling over and over in a clothes-dryer motion; the chances that any of them would survive the somersaulting plunge were as unknown as a bouncing lottery ball.

 

The terror stopped like a pause button. After minutes that seemed like an eternity; the booming, roaring, violent cacophony of the Fall ended with a soft thud. I was like a hot-dog stuffed inside a moist, pallid bun. During the twisted, rambling, hellish descent down the mountain, in what could have been a meat-grinder; my limber body was intact. I laid wrapped in nylon and snow, still in silence, making inventory of my limbs with my nerve endings; waiting for the scream of pain, as the score.

I’ve felt alone before. The everyday worker, husband, student, or octogenarian can understand that sometimes the overwhelming isolation of the human condition causes one to feel shut-in, forced into confinement even if it is not physical restraint. The vacuum quiet of mind-numbing pain, the racing heartbeat of anxiety, fear, and dread, swallowed him whole; it reminded him of old school days, when the heat rash of embarrassment flushed through his skin: “Proceed to the Principal’s office young man; and do it now!”

“Sir, you need to turn around and put your hands behind your back…” If you can relate to that sort of disorienting confusion, if you’ve ever felt so deserted, distressed, and shocked that you wanted to close your eyes and wish it all away; then you can understand a little of what it was like to settle into a hole, interned at the bottom of an Avalanche. What is going to happen next; will I live or die?

#Fiction ©(2015)Mark H. Pillsbury

As you consider Nepal, please consider supporting these relief agencies as they strive to help the real victims of this earthquake still suffering:

UNICEF  The U.N. children’s agency, UNICEF, says nearly 1 million children in Nepal need help. UNICEF says it is preparing two cargo flights with a combined 120 tons of humanitarian supplies including medical and hospital supplies, tents and blankets, for urgent airlift to Kathmandu.
Online: http://www.supportunicef.org

World Food Program
The U.N. World Food Program says logistics and emergency response teams have arrived in Kathmandu.
Online: https://give.wfp.org

Red Cross
The International Committee for the Red Cross says it is working with the Nepal Red Cross Society and has a team working on emergency response.
Online: http://familylinks.icrc.org

Save the Children
Save the Children says it has staff in 63 districts and emergency kits, hygiene materials and tarpaulins already in Nepal and ready for distribution. Additional supplies and emergency recovery teams are being flown in.
Online: https://secure.savethechildren.org

Oxfam
Oxfam says its team in Nepal is assessing needs and it is sending emergency food, water and sanitation supplies. “Communication is currently very difficult. Telephone lines are down and the electricity has been cut off making charging mobile phones difficult. The water is also cut off,” country director Cecilia Keizer says in a statement.
Online: https://secure2.oxfamamerica.org

Doctors Without Borders
Doctors Without Borders, also known as Medecins Sans Frontieres, says it is sending medical staff and supplies to Nepal, including emergency surgical teams.
Online: https://donate.doctorswithoutborders.org

Samaritan's Purse

The Christian aid organization has deployed a disaster relief team and initial supplies for 15,000 households to support partner hospitals.
Online: http://www.samaritanspurse.org