Every year on or around May 1st, I remember being in Paris on that day, in the sprawling cemetery of Père Lachaise, quite a little while ago. I was humbly walking around among the cats and the tombs visiting various obelisks and markers for the departed -- in this case the one for Jim Morrison -- when loud noises broke out not far away. Sounded like firecrackers, whistles, bells, singing and honking all at once. Cats scattered among the grave stones and mausoleums. Small cars drove up the little lanes, bikes with horns, people in black and red carrying banners and placards, shouting and singing and generally carrying on excitedly. Of course! It was May Day in Paris, and anarchists were at play, at protest, in a rushing throng, aiming to wake the dead and rile up the living.
It was all over in less than twenty minutes. Then, European-style sirens, a woosh of police, and the swirl was gone again. I'm not sure how the dead reacted, but it sure woke me up fast.
That's exactly why I always remember being in Paris on May Day.
Today's Rune: Partnership.
4 comments:
...and I wonder what the revelers would have said to the dead they woke?
A lesson in saliency.
An ancient lunatic reigns in the trees of the night!
JC
Eric, I WILL visit Paris and Jim, someday.
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