"A town is temptation. I shall not stop. I'll follow the crops in the fields across France, entranced by the shape of the land. I go with the sweeping broad line of the landscape, a man enhanced, increased, south and east.

The zephyr, the zebra, the zodiac and I glide on the two lane blacktop. Two twenty-two in the afternoon, April seven, two thousand two. Montereau centre ahead.

Forty-five miles below Paris. Call the prince's carriage - my feet, elite among all modes of transport. DO NOT STREAM THE EARTH. LIFE IS NOT A SCAN. Dwell on the dell and the worth of man as best you can.

Let the shoulders give up. Let the floor of the tummy fall down. Breathe in and out three steps apiece, then four then five and up to twelve. Do one hundred steps (or fifty paces) a minute, 'til the End of Facts: to transcend - relax.

Peel the inner onion and hang loose. Forget the engine, ride with me, mix the metaphor with the hanging onion in an open caboose, and, Behold: the beautiful confluence of the Yonne and the Seine. (He travels farthest who knowest not where or when)

Written walking through France (April 2002).

Copyright @ Arthur Garfunkel
Used by Permission of Author. All Rights Reserved.