Mar. 11th, 2003

decadent_david: (Scrutinizing)
Tipping the absinthe bottle over his glass, David filled it once more, spilling a little on the dark wood of the desk. It went unnoticed, and slowly began to seep into the waxed surface of the wood, marring its smoothness. He picked up his fountain pen and fumbled for a correct grip...

Dearest Parents,

Accompanying this letter will be a painting which I thought would look very nice in your foyer. It was done by a local artist who often uses the park near my hotel as his studio. The gardens that appear in the painting are the same that I see when I look from my hotel window.

Paris still proves to hold many surprises, which I take great delight in discovering. The people here are passionate about life, and the living of it. Even those who work very hard do so with a fervor that is amazing to see. The businessmen of Wall Street resemble ghosts in comparison to the spirit shown by those who have come to make Paris their home. The artists, most especially. I recently met an artist named Marton who does not simply paint, he literally applies his soul to the canvas.

I have yet to meet the accountant who threw his heart into numbers with such a passion. To exist so that one may work is truly death. To work so one may exist is a better balance, I would think. Father, were we not meant for more than to be tools to bring wealth into a house already filled with it? When is enough, enough? When will you learn to simply stop, sit, and enjoy what you already have rath---


David stopped, confused, and re-read what he had written. He stood angrily, grabbing the letter and crumpling it in a tight ball. Within moments it was burning brightly in the fireplace.

Sighing, weaving a little, he returned to his desk. Very carefully, he focused his mind and started again.

Dearest Parents,

Accompanying this letter will be a painting which I thought would look very nice in your foyer. It was done by a local artist who often uses the park near my hotel as his studio. The gardens that appear in the painting are the same that I see when I look from my hotel window.

I am still very busy exploring Paris, and find many possible opportunities here. I believe I will learn much about the ways of the world, which should please you both. Tomorrow I will be meeting with a local business owner regarding a joint venture he wishes to discuss. I do not yet know what this entails, so cannot say more at this time.

I trust the family is well.

David


The letter done, he left it lying loose on the desktop, forgotten the moment he stepped away from the desk. He walked to the window, dragging a chair across the floor behind him. He retrieved his absinthe bottle and set it on the windowsill, then fell heavily into the chair. With a deep breath he leaned his elbows on the sill, and watched the lights of Paris until dawn.

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August 2003

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