“For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. Somewhere they live, somewhere they multiply. I alone do not exist.”
I’ve never been able to enjoy a happy moment as it is. I always looked onto these occasions as one would look onto golden memories from an old age, as if the joy I am currently feeling at 21 is being funneled through the grayed edges of an octogenarian’s mind and I am only recalling this long-ago happiness. In a way, I never truly experience those moments.
What I’m trying to say is that my happiness, like 90% of my life, is self-conscious. Any greatly positive event is processed through the lens of time. When I am truly happy, I am always cognizant of a slight tinge of sadness, as if my mind is whispering “this too shall pass” to me on the edges of memory.
There are clearly more opportunities for the poor to be creative in Europe. At least when you’re poor in Paris you have many more open vendors and goods to steal from.