'Puzzled'

Episode 30 - Harmony

Episode 30 - Harmony‘Le Negresco Hotel’, Nice, France, 27 December

Leaving the restaurant, we come out into the lobby. Amidst its eclectic opulence some papier-mâché sculptures stand out. Coming up to one of them, a female bather, Mohammed studies it for a short while.

‘What do you think about modern art?' he asks, gazing at the thighs of the sculptured woman.

'What do I think?' I say.

‘Yes,' he nods.

'Well, I think that art’s a form of self-expression and modern art has many tools that help artists mould their self-expressiveness into a variety of forms.'

'And what forms are close to your heart?' He asks, flickering his dark camel-like eyes at me.

'Any form that’s harmonious.' I reply.

'In other words, a perfect form?'

'Yes, something like that. You see, I believe that harmony of the heart breeds perfect artistic creations.'

'What about this bather? Is she perfect?' He points at the sculpture.

I look at the bright yellow figure of the woman. My eyes glide over her plump knees, her voluptuous body, squeezed into a tight blue swimsuit, her full breasts, hugged by the red cups and, finally, her arms, one of which is thrown upwards.

'Well, she surely attracts one's attention, even captivates the viewer, but I wouldn’t call her perfect.'

'Because of her voluptuousness?' he asks.

'No, because of the lack of harmony in this voluptuous body, it seems to emanate a splash of inharmonious happiness that an artist tries to attract us with.'

Mohammed looks at the sculpture again, then nods and heads for the exit.

'Let me give you a lift to your hotel.' he says, glancing down at my feet.

'I thought it was your hotel too.' I reply.

'No, not mine too. I sometimes come there for breakfast, love their croissants.’

A valet brings Mohammed's red Ferrari to the entrance. We get into the car.

‘What are your plans for tomorrow?' he throws at me, starting his red 'monster'.

'No plans at all, but this may change overnight.' I reply with a smile.

'In this case, let’s change it right now.'

'All-right.' I nod.

'I'm going to Saint Tropez tomorrow. Would you like to join me?' he asks, staring somewhere in front of him.

'Why not,’ I respond, scrutinising his Arabic beaked profile in the dim light of the car salon.