"la chose des autres"

"Donne-moi ta main, camarade,
Toi qui viens d'un pays
Où les hommes sont beaux.
Donne-moi ta main, camarade.
J'ai cinq doigts, moi aussi.
On peut se croire égaux"
C. Nougaro

(give me your hand, friend, you who comes from a land where men are beautiful. Give me your hand, friend. I have five fingers, too. We could almost believe we were equal.)

where that came from? it came floating on the wings of the wind of the West. it came from the wry whispers of lush gardens wrapped with the Wind of the West. from a well-preserved primly preserved yes better than apricot preserves, a tartly tautly preserved madame of the Jardin de L. a Madame, a self-appointed guardian of a gargantuan garden. perched, no, more than that. planted on a chair of legs rooted in cracked smoked gravel.
planted on the periphery of an island of virgin green grass outgrowing its trimmed edges in the solitary piece of sunlight that chose to hover only there. just there. a chosen land. a land chosen by the sun.
my limbs stretched on the sun-lit bed combed with well-groomed grass bursting in the sun and underneath the weight of me.
no traces of rampant man-typed signs pointing to a virgin grass that was to remain virgin, unless someone like me tramples squishes desecrates it.
a happily blond police-man with a happily blond moustache and a happy hat gently suggesting. "there's another patch over there, pardon mademoiselle"
and a happily suggestive smile.
the Madame of the Gardens uproots her formidable figure. uproots her swaying glasses from her bone of a nose. and grills me just like the gravel beneath her grinding heels. in a soft voice of steely gray tone, she wrapped her words around me, around us all, words that penetrate an armor of a lifetime of Western Living, that slither their way into your Being, your Identity, your instinct of Self-preservation.
her Parisian french could be heard over the other Parisian conversations, Parisian orchestra, and Parisian birds:
"if you do not respect the belongings of others, how do you expect us to respect YOU?"
note to self: yes. you've just been hit with a racist remark. ignore, and pity her. in my country, we just replant the grass. that is greener, anyway.