The Paris Match song

There was my favorite song by The Style Council  on at the caffe,  it was haunting because i had listened to it a lot during my years at university, in Florence, and i listened to it in Tehran while i was looking after my mother.  It was so romantic and expressed  nostalgic  feelings.   I looked out of the window while sipping at my coffee and indulged in looking out onto the busy street from the comfort of my armchair .... on this rainy day i was in Paris and a dream i had had come true...... 

"Empty hours Spent combing the street In daytime showers They've become my beat; As I walk from cafe to bar I wish I knew where you are; Because you've clouded my mind And now I'm all out of time

 Empty skies say try to forget Better advice is to have no regrets; As I tread the boulevard floor Will I see once more; Because you've clouded my mind 'Till then I'm biding my time I'm only sad in a natural way And I enjoy sometimes feeling this way The gift you gave is desire The match that started my fire Empty nights with nothing to do I sit and think, every thought is for you; I get so restless and bored So I go out once more; I hate to feel so confined I feel like I'm wasting my time"




curtesy of Mr Michel Grossmano

 I  was sitting at a nice comfortable coffee shop where they served  large cups of coffee. It was on the Champ de Lise and  i was thinking about  Mr Mallen and how he had helped me several times with my documents and  administrative issues. Mr Mallen was teaching French at a school in the Saint Germain area.   I had met him through an exhibition i did chez Margaret organized in Momo's coffee shop round the corner .   Momo's  was infront of the Adzak Museum on Rue Jon quoy .....  and Margaret was an Irish woman who knew nearly everybody in the area because she had lived here for the last 30 years. 

 She stayed at Adzak  museum's  residency as a sort of multitasking directer because Margaret had been one of the many friends of Roy Wright the English artist and sculpter who had left the world  this Container Museum in Paris with his Sculptures and other works in it.  He had died of Cancer in 1984.  He and Margaret had been close friends because Roy spoke very little french and Margaret who was a journalist and worked for the BBC helped him in various moments and had been the only one to stick by him in his last days  ....  she  knew the French language very well and was aware of what was going on and how things were done in Paris.    It was now my  fifth year here .... i had arrived in 2013 as an artist (born in Iran) with a  refugee stay permit from France.  I had lived in Italy for 23 years and  my Italian residency  permit which i had acquired during those years werent valid now . The law said that if one stayed two years without renewing the permit ....  it wouldnt be renewable. I suggest here that after a period of ten years of legal  residency in a country , there should be an automatic long term residency or even citizenship.  

When i met  Mr Mallen Barett, i was in Momos caffee and looking at the exhibit of paintings there, he too  had been one of the few people to visit the exhibition .... for the occasion he was wearing a bright purple  jacket and a multicoulered pair of pants and looked like an arty sort of person ..... later on we found out that he was organizing a fashion show for one of his students and he managed to organize it all with some help from the town hall in the 14th area and he got it on the cat walk that summer .....  Mr Mallen  was always open to new ideas and was very talented , and he got things done but i thought it was a pity that he didnt seem to have talent in making money for himself .after all his efforts.  He lived in a chambre de bon on the sixth floor of a building close to the museum and his neighbour  was Mr Coffin who was a friend of Margaret's as well.






me and Margaret on rue de Suisse 2017
photo by Mr Meyer




  They both were frenchmen  from the same Grenoble area in eastern France.  Mr Coffin was an expert in gardening and plants and he was the proud owner of a beautifully decorated appartment on the fifth floor.  Mr Mallen was always involved with his many students and went off on missions as an NGO to Nepal and India ....  he kindly allowed me to stay in his appartment while he was away in India.

 Some years before this i had inherited a house from my parents and had  money  from selling the house .  I had tried to buy a property in Paris  without knowing anyone or  even speaking  the language.  I was staying in a hotel in Saint Germain de Pres . I had then had to go to Spain and buy the property there because i knew some one on the Costa Blanca who could help me with my project.  Money, Money  Money was now a constant issue on my mind, because i hadnt found any work after all these years of living in Paris.  I worried a lot about finding work but i had lived quite well despite my poverty.

  It was partly  because of all the social services in Paris , i found life quite agreeable even without having money to spend on hotels and restraunts and infact i liked the city because i was familiar with the way it worked . Now i had spent some years at the Muse'e Adzak and had met many of the people who were friends of the museum.....

and i thought about how i had been brought to Adzak Museìe because an American friend called Barbara had told me to go to a poetry reading afternoon.  I had gone to the book shop Shakespear and Co. near the Notre Dame church and there having met an Iranian woman who was an old timer in Paris , i had been invited to go with her and a group of people to Adzak Muse'e on a Sunday afternoon  .....  



one of my paintings exhibited in Adzak Muse'e 2014/15

  


One of the best songs by "The Style Council "

 ."  Empty hours Spent combing the street In daytime showers They've become my beat; As I walk from cafe to bar I wish I knew where you are; Because you've clouded my mind And now I'm all out of time Empty skies say try to forget Better advice is to have no regrets; As I tread the boulevard floor Will I see once more; Because you've clouded my mind 'Till then I'm biding my time I'm only sad in a natural way And I enjoy sometimes feeling this way The gift you gave is desire The match that started my fire Empty nights with nothing to do I sit and think, every thought is for you; I get so restless and bored So I go out once more; I hate to feel so confined I feel like I'm wasting my time  "