drunk on wormwood /part 2

drunk on wormwood/part 2

fiction
edward w pritchard


Morning in Ohio is nothing like waking slowly, slowly high on a a hill in the arrisdismont of Montmartre in Paris.

To be hung over on wormwood known as absinthe in Paris is an other worldly experience. Not one of the beautiful women who roamed the district until four AM last night will rise before noon. A French girl must look to her health.

A man in the morning in Montmartre must have some strong Italian style expresso and a croissant and some solitude while he nurses his hang over.

Too much of " Le night club" at an American style bar that draws the tourists but wrecks productivity mornings for locals was in the air last night. A long walk through Montmartre is good for the health and " le headache" as one watches the industrious local artists at work preparing their canvasses for the onslaught of German and Chinese tourists arriving by packed buses up the steep hills from their tour of the Eiffel Tower.

After a slow walk the mood and the spirit revives; Paris is in the air and in the heart for another morning.

Slowly, slowly approach another day.