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Rated: E · Monologue · Experience · #2181295
A short piece describing a serene moment in France
I sit down at the grated table, and regard the scene around me: the cobbled street, the fountain, frozen from yesterday’s freeze, the pigeon perched beneath the bench beside the statue of a revolutionary. As I take out my book, the waiter comes, and asks for my order. I, not truly hungry, respond to him that an espresso and a chocolatine would satisfy my craving. I am not there, in reality, to eat, but rather to soak up the last of vestiges of winter in southern France. I do so by listening to the conversations around me, the one between a woman and her friend about a blue blouse, or the one between a man and his phone jetting past me on his bicycle. My nose and eyes thoroughly turn to my book but my ears concentrate on the surrounding square, I am in control. I am able to immerse myself both in the world of Proust and in the world of Jobs and Zuckerberg. I feel, in this moment, like a time traveler, linking the pensive remarks by Proust to the modern curves of the iPhone walking past, a voice announcing to the world the most recent text message sent to a recent graduate celebrating his new job. I take a generous slice of my chocolatine, and a small sip of my coffee. I snap a photograph of this moment with my mobile phone, and close my eyes. How can I remember this feeling of serenity?
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