The Living Statue

23.

There are few cities that can take your breath away at first sight. For me, Paris was not one of them.

I expected it to blow my mind in an instance, to sweep me off my feet like a handsome stranger, to leave me breathless like an encounter with a long lost childhood love, or even an unexpected visit from a friend that lives on the other side of the globe. But as we drove in a long limousine from the airport to the hotel through the city, I couldn't help but stare out of the window somewhat disappointed, or at least a little bit moved by the landscape that lay before my eyes.

It wasn't a sight to see, the periphery of Paris that is, with its tall, ruined buildings and only a little greenary, almost impossible to spot with such compact arrangement of concrete condominiums. I thought about the people who lived in those neighbourhoods and about the children who had no parks to play in. I scruntinized the walls covered in graffiti and wondered about the stories they held behind, about the teenegers that created them and whether they were struggling in such inhuman conditions. I tried not to think about the book I've read a long time ago - the tragic story of Christiana F. - and the fact that I've read in it that inadequate living spaces, so called concrete neighbourhoods, can have a great impact on one's childhood, can effect one's choices in a way that can ruin one's life.

It moved me, to think about all those things, and yet Mr Torres didn't seem to notice anything at all. In fact, I'm not sure if he once glanced through the window, let alone kept his gaze on the scenery outside. I believed he'd seen it many times, the moving sight of Paris' periphery, and grew immune to it, as we usually do to most things. Still, no matter how hard I tried to turn a blind eye, no matter how many times I've told myself it was none of my business, it nettled me - his indifference nettled me and I couldn't really tell why.

And then, just as I was starting to get depressed with all the thoughts that settled inside my uncontrollable little head, everything changed. It all happened so quickly and the bleak, depressing condominiums replaced beautiful, hystoric houses, the sight of them obstructed by curvy iron gates and dense alleys of blooming trees. My mood changed instantly, even as the scenery outside the vehicle did, and I found myself glued to the window, staring through the glass like a goofy puppy who'd spotted a long forgotten bone in the backyard.

Needless to say, Mr Torres remained as indifferent to the beautiful landscape outside as he did to the previous one, with calmness of a man who's seen it all. Maybe he did, I thought after some time, as I decided not to waste another minute watching him instead of enjoying the beauty the city had to offer.

The buildings only grew more enchanting as we drove nearer to the very core of the city. It was magical, just thinking of being there, surrounded by such beauty that had existed for centuries.

After some time I turned to Mr Torres yet again, only to find him engrossed in his Ipad, again. "Sir?"

He looked up, rather distracted. "Yes?"

"May I ask, Sir, what business are we about to endure during our stay here?"

"Miss Griffin, I assure you, you will be informed about everything you need to know when the time comes."

I fixed my gaze back on the passing street outside. "I undersand, Sir, but don't you think I should be prepared for the period ahead of us? I mean, it must be some important business we are talking about, considering our immediate departure from the country."

When I glanced back at him, he finally decided to give so much attention to our conversation as to put away his precious, electronic device. "Miss Griffin, I believe you were long enough under my employment to have learnt that I don't like my decisions being reconsidered. Once I make a decision, there is no one that can change my mind - not my business partner, not Lord above and certainly not you, yourself. Am I clear?"