Simon Bolivar

"What killed him was seeing his dream come true, only to fall apart again." - Miguel.

Toulouse-Lautrec, In the Salon of the Rue des Moulins

As I walk out of the Mayflower, a Frenchman cries out

'Salut!'

and for a second there the look on his face is of such comraderie that I think this old man is going to bro-fist or high-five me. He just walks on, smiling proudly.

Three minutes forty-six seconds earlier, three girls had surrounded me in a dark little lane, right outside the Mayflower. They invite me to come see their bar, and I politely refuse; but my hand is in their hands and I'm being pulled in. Inside, several women of all shapes and sizes sit around looking coy.

I am pushed into a little cubicle and this little lady is explaining the rules to me.

10 Euros and I can choose any one of them and have a dance in the cubicle. It doesn't look or smell like it's been used for dancing in many times. I say

'Thanks, I really just want dinner and a drink,'

and it's about half-true.

'I can come with you for dinner if you like,'

she says.

'Yeah, I'd like that, really would, but I don't think my girlfirend would so much.'

She laughs, somebody steals my hat, somebody's dancing, somebody's trying to pull me back in. I grab the hat and dash out.

This old Frenchman sees me come out of that brothel and smiles like I'm the only tourist he's ever liked.

'Salut!'

the old man cries.

Old Montmartre

In Montmartre, a Rasta sits at a bar next to two spanish girls. He dunks a beer down, sighs in despair and complains about how sad he is that he can't afford designer clothing.

A city within a city

In Saint-Michelle, a young homeless guy sits by the roadside, his hat upside down with a few sprinkled coppers inside. He reads as he smokes a thin cigar and the paper bag at his side droops to reveal the tell-tale golden wrapper bottle-neck of champagne.

Rotterdam (the world died yesterday)

--

"So. How do we do it? How do we change the world?" Daniel asked, finishing off his glass of wine. He might not know all the answers, but he always asks the important questions.

I had met up with Daniel in old apocalyptic Rotterdam's train station. It was raining heavily that day. We walked by the riverfront before we settled in a pub, to dry out.

It's hard to explain, and I don't mean to try too hard anyway, but when Brother Daniel talks of salvation he reminds you that you believe in it too. His heart has no bars: he is like a second Jesus - sans fanatic followers, except maybe me.

Every year I take a shot of Daniel. If it doesn't keep me alive, at least it keeps me humane, a little bit closer to sane, and always leaves me thinking.

--

Ongebroken Verzet (Unbroken Resistance)

We are Anonymous.
We are Legion.
We do not forgive.
We do not forget.
Expect us.

(in Anonymous message to NATO)

Obstreperous.