1. Captatatio Benevolentiae
The sounds of Montmarte engulfed my soul in a river of thoughts. Au petit Montmarte is a little cafe ,on the edges of this chic, little neighborhood, in which I came on my first day in Paris. With A la recherche du temps perdue and a glass of Cabernet Sauvingnon my fictional adventure began. I stood there for hours until I realized that it was already dawn and I had to go to my apartment. The view of Paris from in front of the Sacre Couer cathedral made my heart stop and contemplate. My soul founds its new love and my new life had just begun.
Passing by Notre Dame, a library with the name of Shakespeare and Company is where I would spend countless hours to read the most interesting of novels. One day, I was very keen on finding an old book in french, Le malade imaginaire by Moliere. Finally finding the book I opened to the preface and an envelope fell out. Not knowing what it is, and my curiosity getting ahead of itself, I opened the tiny and fragile envelope. It read:
The dome of death is golden,
And it has hazy means,
But don't go looking in itself
The treasure is of liberty
What? What is this? I thought and sat down on the velvet cushion. I though it to be a poem of some sort. But what could it mean? I sat there looking for answer, as if I were sequestered by the thirst of knowledge. I left with the envelope and started walking, strolling around admiring and contemplating the churches around. Then, i realized, the dome in the poetry, it was a dome which I passed by tens of times.