Dying in Paris

Being in a large city filled with people which seem to bubble from the ground like ants makes it easier to get lost.
Easier to die within.
Easier to kill the soul while the body still moves and breaths.

So is the case of a friend of mine.
He left this world a long time ago, and everytime I see him, I know he is no longer here.

His body is still here. He tries from time to time to acknowledge I am in front of him, but the effort to acknowledge others existence causes him extreme pain.

I know, but he likes me so he tries and usually falls to a chaotic and repetitive conversation loop.
You have to know him to realize he is repeating over and over and getting lost in his thoughts and tears.
Sometimes he can look at me  with his lost eyes and just start crying.
I do not think he looks at me, I just happened to be in the direction of his memories.
I am probably blocking them for an instant then they come rushing in inundating his eyes.

When I first met him, his body was still responding, he walked and even insisted in cooking for me from time to time...
 but as of lately even his body is giving signals of abandon.

Every time I look at him I wonder when his suffering will end.
I too suffer seeing him in so much pain.
It is to me a clear example of a  body separated from its  soul to never come back.
Just like ORLY from J. Brel.

The body stays alone after the soul has long left causing anguish and pain...

Yesterday he was found in the streets unable to move and talk and taken to some hospital.
It is april 10, 2011.  I am today in my 30's while he is in his 70's.

I can hear the bells  from the church at Saint-Germain-des-Prés singing, reminding me to stop writing, get up and look for him.

I will now call hospitals to find out where has him been taken. I hope to find him...

Perhaps his pain will soon will end. I care about him very much.  I would like him to find peace. This peace will not be found here, not in this earth, not in Paris, not in his frail body and certainly not in my company, although I have held his hand a few times in my attempt to give him comfort.
At the end my presence is useless  as there is nothing I can do except be filled with melancholy.

....•°°•.¸.•°°•.¸.•°°•.¸....

Et maintenant ils pleurent 
Je veux dire tous les deux 
Tout à l`heure c`était lui 
Lorsque je disais il 
Tout encastrés qu`ils sont 
Ils n`entendent plus rien 
Que les sanglots de l`autre 
Et puis infiniment 
Comme deux corps qui prient 
Infiniment lentement ces deux corps 
Se séparent et en se séparant 
Ces deux corps se déchirent 
Et je vous jure qu`ils crient 
Et puis ils se reprennent 
Redeviennent un seul 
Redeviennent le feu 
Et puis se redéchirent 
Se tiennent par les yeux 
Et puis en reculant 
Comme la mer se retire 
Ils consomment l`adieu 
Ils bavent quelques mots 
Agitent une vague main 
Et brusquement ils fuient 
Fuient sans se retourner Et puis il disparaît 
Bouffé par l`escalier