I kept dropping golden rings I didn’t even have and everyone was picking them up at my feet and trying to sell them to me. I watched a man propose marriage to a woman in the Luxembourg Gardens, a little boy riding a little horse alone in the rain. We ate anchovies and potatoes but I sliced the Roquefort wrong didn’t I? I read the poem in English you read the poem in French let’s do that all night we have a hundred bottles of wine. A woman in a cafe asked to read what I was writing in my notebook, if it was about her, and it was, so I showed her, and she read it in french to the man across from her, then told me it was the worst, that she could inspire better from someone who calls themselves a writer. But I am a painter, I said. And I only paint the dead. Everything is made of bread, even the buildings. A man with one leg played the accordion on the metro and I gave him one euro and everyone on the train laughed at me. I gave a barista in a cafe a tip and she laughed too and said she’d give it to her mother. I feel like I am 1000 years old and every year since I’ve been born I’ve grown another head. And I have to carry all of my fresh little heads with their 2000 eyes in my two old arms. I’ll sit in the cemetery and try to remember how I got there.