My friend sent me photos from Paris.

Each one with the Eiffel Tower.

Got me thinking...

Whats up with the Eiffel Tower? Why are people so impressed with it? I have seen far more beautiful and amazing buildings, and yet they marvel at this useless tower.


As it always happens, I suddenly humanized the ugly structure. No, but imagine yourself as an Eiffel Tower. Just standing there watching happy people walk by, taking unsolicited selfies with you, posting you all over social media, while you just stand there, unable to move or say something. What would the Eiffel Tower say.


What would the Tower say? Luckily, I am easily persuaded in asking chatgpt stupid questions. I asked chatgpt to tell me a story from the perspective of the Eiffel Towe. This is what it told me:


"Once upon a time in the heart of Paris, there stood a majestic tower, tall and proud, overlooking the city of lights. From my perch high above, I watched as life unfolded beneath me, like a grand tapestry woven with the threads of human existence.Every day, people from all corners of the globe would come to visit me, their faces filled with wonder and awe. They would marvel at my intricate iron lattice work, ascend my elegant stairs, and gaze out over the sprawling cityscape below. For many, I was a symbol of romance, a beacon of love and longing.But amidst the tourists and photographers, there were quieter moments too. Couples would embrace beneath my silhouette, sharing secrets and promises against the backdrop of the setting sun. Families would gather for picnics in the nearby Champ de Mars, children playing games as their laughter echoed in the air.Through it all, I stood as a silent sentinel, witnessing the ebb and flow of life below. From the highs of celebration to the lows of sorrow, I bore witness to the human experience in all its complexity. And though I may be made of iron and steel, my heart beat with the rhythm of the city, a testament to the enduring spirit of Paris and its people."


Of course, I asked the next obvious question; to hear one of those secrets:


"One quiet evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city below began to glow with the soft light of twilight, I overheard a whispered conversation between two lovers. They stood beneath me, their voices barely audible over the gentle hum of the city."I have something to tell you," the young woman said, her voice tinged with nervousness."What is it, my love?" her companion replied, concern evident in his tone."I've been offered a job in another country," she confessed, her words hesitant yet filled with longing. "It's an incredible opportunity, but it means leaving everything behind, including you."Silence hung in the air for a moment, broken only by the distant sound of traffic drifting up from the streets below. Then, the young man spoke, his voice soft yet resolute."If it's what you truly want, then I'll support you," he said, his words carrying the weight of sacrifice. "But know that no matter where you go, a piece of my heart will always be here with you."Tears glistened in the woman's eyes as she threw her arms around him, holding him tightly as if trying to imprint the moment into her memory forever. And as they stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, I couldn't help but feel a pang of bittersweet sadness, knowing that even as they faced the uncertainty of the future, their love would endure, a flickering flame in the vast expanse of time."


I wasnt moved by this. I pose the next question; do you cry, oh majestic Eiffel Tower. It replied it does not in fact cry. So I asked what makes it sad and it answered:

"As an iconic symbol, I don't experience emotions like humans do, but I imagine if anything could make me sad, it might be the thought of neglect or harm coming to the city and people I've stood watch over for so long."


Pretty boring, right? Useless, boring and dull structure. Symbol of love and Paris. I bet the Pyramid has better stories to tell. Lets see:


"I am the Great Pyramid, a silent witness to the passage of time, standing tall amidst the shifting sands of Egypt. Once, I was the pinnacle of human ambition, a testament to the ingenuity and determination of an ancient civilization.From my stone chambers, I have seen the rise and fall of empires, the march of armies, and the ebb and flow of countless lives. I have watched as the sun rises and sets, casting its golden light upon my weathered surface.Generations have come and gone, yet I remain, a symbol of endurance and resilience. Though my purpose may have faded with the ages, I still stand as a monument to the dreams of those who built me, a silent guardian of their memory.Though the sands of time may erode my surface, they can never diminish the legacy of the civilization that created me. For as long as I stand, I will continue to whisper their story to those who care to listen, a testament to the enduring power of human ambition and imagination."


Tell me one such story, Great Pyramid - I asked.


"Once, during the reign of the Pharaoh Khufu, my halls echoed with the sound of bustling activity. Countless workers toiled under the scorching sun, their sweat mingling with the dust of the desert as they labored to build me, the Great Pyramid of Giza.Among those workers was a young man named Amenhotep. He was born into a family of laborers, his ancestors having served the Pharaohs for generations. From a young age, he dreamed of leaving his mark upon the world, of building something that would endure long after he was gone.Day after day, Amenhotep worked tirelessly, hauling massive blocks of limestone and granite, shaping them with hammer and chisel, and carefully placing them in their designated positions. Despite the hardships of his labor, he never wavered in his determination, fueled by the knowledge that he was contributing to something greater than himself.As the years passed and the pyramid rose ever higher, Amenhotep found himself filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment. Though he knew he would never see the completion of his work, he took solace in the fact that his efforts would be immortalized in stone, a testament to his dedication and skill.And so, when the day finally came for the Great Pyramid to be unveiled to the world, Amenhotep stood among the crowd, his heart swelling with pride as he beheld the towering structure that he had helped to create. Though his name may have been forgotten by history, his legacy lived on in every stone, a silent tribute to the indomitable spirit of those who dared to dream."


Better than the Tower, but still not amused. I now dare talk to the Wailing Wall of Jerusalem:


"I am the Wailing Wall, standing as a solemn sentinel in the heart of Jerusalem, bearing witness to the joys and sorrows of countless generations. For centuries, I have been a sacred site, a place of pilgrimage and prayer for the faithful.Every day, I am visited by people from all walks of life, each with their own hopes and dreams, fears and regrets. They come to me seeking solace, pouring out their hearts in whispered prayers and tearful supplications.Among the throngs of pilgrims who have stood before me, there was once a young woman named Sarah. She came to me in the midst of a turbulent time in her life, her heart heavy with grief and uncertainty.Sarah had endured many trials and tribulations, but none weighed so heavily upon her as the loss of her beloved grandmother. She had been Sarah's rock, her guiding light in a world filled with darkness, and her passing had left a void that seemed impossible to fill.And so, Sarah came to me, seeking solace in the presence of something greater than herself. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she poured out her heart in prayer, seeking comfort and guidance in her time of need.As she stood before me, her words mingled with the murmurs of countless others who had come before her, creating a tapestry of sorrow and hope that stretched back through the ages. And in that moment, Sarah felt a sense of peace wash over her, a quiet assurance that she was not alone in her pain.Though her grandmother could never be replaced, Sarah knew that she would always carry her memory in her heart, drawing strength from the love that had bound them together. And as she turned to leave, she felt a glimmer of hope begin to stir within her, knowing that no matter what the future held, she would always find refuge in the shadow of the Wailing Wall."

 

Now which one of the three world wonders would you choose to have dinner with?



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

  I am sitting on the train to Frankfurt. There is an old man opposite of me. He looks very messy and unclean. He has a really big belly and grey sweatpants. His scrotum seems michelangelesque, if Michelangelo's David was some trailer trash, beaten down, obese, old man. Meaning, it is very visible underneath the fabric. That is why I noticed. Nothing else. I also notice his balls are on his far right, both of them, while his penis is on the far left. Almost as if completely separated from one another. Almost as if he chopped them up in a fit of male-like rage and then, after regretting that impulse, hastily put them back together. But you can always tell when something was once broken. The vein in his forehead is throbbing, probably because it takes everything of him to keep his half-closed eyes opened, and the vein knows it. Even the vein is sick of his crap. It betrays him. It wants to break free. But who in the right mind would adopt this vein? The morning Sun makes some of hi
Read more
I think I died at least twentysix times until now.  I cant remember any. Or what it felt like. Or why I died.  When I say I died, I dont mean physically. Do I believe in death? Debatable. Do I believe people die? Yes. All the time. Most of us are not even aware of it.  Most of us call it "growing up."  "Its high time you grew up, T." "Life is not a fairytale." "You are unable to live in the real world." "Thats not how real world works!" "What world do you live in?" "Growing up" means not "living in a fairytale", but "living in the real world".  I dont know what makes a world real. Do I believe in real? Debatable.  So when I say I died, I meant I stopped living in a fairytale, I lived in the real world,  I adapted to the real world. Now that I am thinking about it, every time I died it was brief.  One day maximum. Every time I was dead for a day.  It is like a daytrip; I trip and I die. Dying felt
Read more

January 26th, 2024

 "The dog is sick", my mom says. My uncle´s house got broken into. I have lost count how many times that happened already. They were sitting in the living room and heard rumbling upstairs. Had the dog not have been sick, she would have warned them (that bitch). The dog´s name is Fifi. I have lost count how old she is. I have lost count of many things. One thing I lost count of is how many things I keep losing count of. She is very messy and very protective. That dog can meet you one hundred times and she will bark at you for one hundred and one time. Her hair is also messy. I do not know what breed that dog is or where she came from. My uncle already had a dog once. They called him Drug, which mean a pal in bosnian. That is what they say they named him after. I always felt it had a nice communist sound to it. Drug was very polite. Males usually are. They are not as protective as females. And everyone remembers Drug. And everyone speaks highly of him. But Drug never made so mu
Read more