I Like the French

I like the way they look at the world. Or at least the way their writers and filmmakers do. I like that they recognise that a story doesn't have to have a happy ending to make it worth the telling and that a romance doesn't have to be perfect to be true. I like that the hero and heroine don't have to be perfect. They can be imperfect in every way and still be considered worthy of the story. They can be silly or irreversibly damaged by sorrow and still find some measure of happiness or consolation in love. I think we've got it all wrong here in North America with our perfect, plastic people. And pur shiny happy visions of romance. Everybody larger than life with no margin for error. I like that the french seem to see the world and themselves as deeply flawed, and all the more perfect for it. That the human experience counts for just as much when measuring a persons worth as their surface perfection. There's a beautiful sadness in french art that we just can't seem to touch. It makes me feel both happy and sad at the same time. I believe that happiness isn't the main dish of the feast that is life. It's the seasoning that makes the rest of it worth the eating. And I like it.