A young man with green eyes and purple lips speaks to us. He’s a student, though university is now in his past. Young, handsome, he sells his body through dating apps. The locations shift, the men begin to blur into one another. The actions repeat, a tired choreography. Ultimately, the story is always the same.
The narrator leaps from paragraph to the bed of another client. Perhaps this is what he needs, this trial by body, the proof of flesh and sweat, to reassure himself that he’s still alive, even as he feels himself dissolving into empty days.
The sentences are short, sharp. The words are raw, unvarnished. But his true intimacy is not found within these sheets. His father is dying. It’s a matter of days.
"I haven’t decided how I’ll dress for the funeral yet."
From one room to the next, the narrator seeks love or perhaps it is death he is seeking. Then, one day, he notices something taped to a wall: a black and white photograph. A young man, naked, folded in half, sucking his own toe. A strangely pornographic innocence emanates from this image.
This photograph acts as a pivotal point, a stark contrast to the transactional encounters he relentlessly pursues. The image, frozen in time, captures a moment of private, almost childlike exploration of the self. The narrator, surrounded by fleeting, often impersonal encounters, is confronted with a visual representation of self-love, a concept that seems foreign to him.
His life is a series of encounters, quick and ultimately unsatisfying. He uses these men, and perhaps they use him, to feel something, anything, against the numbness that threatens to engulf him. The apps become a tool, a means to an end, a way to stave off the inevitable confrontation with his father’s impending death and his own feelings of inadequacy and loss.
The choice of language emphasizes the narrator’s detachment. The curt sentences mirror the brevity of his encounters, highlighting the superficiality of his connections. The crude words are not meant to shock, but rather to expose the reality of his life, a life stripped bare of sentimentality and pretense.
The impending death of his father hangs heavy in the air, a constant, unspoken pressure. The narrator’s preoccupation with his funeral attire is a manifestation of his inability to grapple with the emotional weight of the situation. It’s a deflection, a way to maintain control in a situation where he feels utterly powerless.
He is searching for something, whether it is love, acceptance, or simply a fleeting moment of connection. The repetition of locations and men suggests a deeper longing, a desperate attempt to fill the void within him. The question of whether he is finding love or death in these encounters remains ambiguous, blurring the lines between physical intimacy and emotional despair.
The photograph on the wall is not simply a visual anomaly. It’s a symbol of what the narrator is missing: a genuine connection with himself. The young man in the photograph is comfortable in his own skin, unashamed of his body. This is something the narrator, lost in the cycle of fleeting encounters, has seemingly forgotten.
The narrator is a study in contradiction. He is young and handsome, yet he sells himself. He is a student, yet he has abandoned academia. He craves connection, yet he remains emotionally detached. He is searching for life, yet he is surrounded by death.
The use of "pourpre" to describe his lips is significant. Purple is a color associated with both royalty and mourning, reflecting the duality of his existence: the superficial glamour of his physical appearance and the underlying sadness that permeates his life.
The repetition of "toujours la même histoire" underscores the narrator’s sense of futility. Each encounter is a variation on a theme, a temporary distraction from the underlying pain. The lack of genuine connection leaves him feeling empty and unfulfilled.
The photograph, in its stark simplicity, offers a glimmer of hope. It suggests that there is another way to relate to oneself, a way that is not dependent on external validation or fleeting physical encounters. It’s a reminder of the beauty and innocence that can be found within the human body, even in its most unconventional expressions.
The narrator’s journey is one of self-discovery, a painful and often confusing process. He is caught between the desire for connection and the fear of vulnerability. He is searching for meaning in a world that seems increasingly meaningless. The photograph serves as a catalyst, prompting him to question his choices and consider the possibility of a different path. Perhaps, in the face of his father’s impending death, he will finally find the courage to confront his own demons and embrace the possibility of self-acceptance. The story leaves us wondering if he will ever truly connect with himself, or if he will continue to drift through life, searching for something he cannot find in the arms of strangers.
