‘Paris of the East’

Juan Sebastian Restrepo(zeb) is a Florida-based artist known for his paintings and drawings that explore the interplay between memory and storytelling. He holds an MFA from Southern Illinois University Edwardsville and a BFA from Pratt Institute. His recent exhibitions include “intersections” at New World Gallery (2023) and “Hybridity” at the Edwardsville Arts Center (2018). Upcoming solo shows include “No Further Expectations Beyond this Night” at The Art and Culture Center/Hollywood (2024) and “multitasking” at [NAME] Publications in Miami, FL (2024). Restrepo also teaches as an Adjunct Faculty member at Florida International University and Miami Dade College.

Paris of the East

Prepare me the Renaissance. Almost always true is the bare-chested Sun-stirring Americana fever  

Drenched as well till knee-deep in the sweat 

Of summer. Or perhaps the cold-as-spite bite on your cheeks 

On a Parisian evening, evening streets or 

Evening tea at the downtown Inn 

‘Twixt the sheets our thighs, your collar, spilt 

With sunlight like a hazy projection in the  

Electric theater where I first saw you. 

In the air of respected sex and gender 

I gape open my mouth, will you see that three-lettered word they carved  Into my tongue? In the Paris of the East 

Where our only soft evening-airs come from the 

Electric fan and the culture’s what you make of it 

But lack of comprehension and two holed shoes are ever your only tools Tunnels of bones is all I’ve had to bury to be like you. 

Are you from here or do I yearn for you or have you yearned like me To depart the Paris of the East, churchyard I went far, in the black dirt knee-deep. They make you monstrous before a spectacle,  

pinch the skin I scrub for stunning showmanship on the 

Alpines, cliffsides, or the undying riveras chronicled in the likewise undying art. 

The worser weather here, with the chipping varnish, 

the dense exhalation and  

My cheap and starving body and false teeth and no personified 

Dream to hold me and more importantly no strolling on those 

Evening streets where I am predestined to be happy 

I would lose their affections to be the exception of this empty cave Or what they like to call the Paris of the East 

To see the Eiffel, or the Mavericks I call like-minded 

Having the so hollowed-out cheeks I crave, and their smiles I covet Prompted by the high-rise gym I’ll die nearly every day in. 

Fate, I’ll cut you up and swallow your golden guts the ones 

That makes ambition prophetic and gleaming, too. 

Paris, I know you by proxy. I’ve seen your Christmas markets a mile an hour And the ambient jazz that enchants me into desirability. I love your old folks And they will love me, and will cherish the stories 

Of before I bit the tendrils of the Paris of the East 

In speaking for me, don’t show me the golden ticket I know exists I’d swim the Seine like an infectious kiss in all that  

I found glorious. All that I found would haloize this suitably 

Svelte waist and hollow cheeks, or the doe-eyes plus the allure of untethered threads And more and more tantalizing nakedness that makes artful ambition prophetic.

Feng Kok is a aspiring writer based in Malaysia, currently honing my craft as he approaches the end of high school. When he is not writing, he is studying for his IGCSE exams and enjoy reading, watching movies, and consuming other forms of storytelling