Paris might be the home of existentialism, but Sisyphus has clearly not been granted a ‘Friend of the Philosophers’ work exemption.
Not even out the front of the Louvre.
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- trixie
- My birth certificate attests to my debut on a Saturday in the middle of May, 1977. You can thus deduce that I am a bullish Taurean, that I was born in the Chinese year of the Snake, that my Burmese animal is the Dragon. This means that I am wont to bellow, hiss, and breathe fire, to stampede, slither and fly. Because my birth certificate was stamped by a bureaucrat in service to Her Majesty’s Government, I am a citizen of the United Kingdom. Because both of my parents were practicing Australians, I am also a citizen of Australia. I have thus two passports both of which inexplicably contain photographs of some random grumpy refugee from an eighties hair band. This means that I am constitutionally duplicitous: I can change my mode from imperial to colonial at will; I can embody, at turns, Old World Charm and New World Pizzazz; I can personify the staid and stagnant as readily as the arriviste and anxious. I do not hold, nor have I ever held, a driver’s licence, a boat licence, a gun licence, a forklift ticket or a motorcycle licence. This means that I have never, ever had to moderate my alcohol consumption for fear that I might have to operate heavy or dangerous machinery.
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