as before, as always.
grave candles in front of the supermarket between soft Flowers wilted in between photos of a young, hand-written note, 'rip', 'we will not forget you'. the obituary is 'we have lost the heart of our family'.
"they are the intended today have often been asked, but what's happened around the corner?" I asked the cashier, who works often when I shop, a customer of right, while she takes my purchases (apples, milk, toilet paper) on the scanner. "A seventeen-year-old jumped from the car park. Last week Wednesday. Evening at half past ten." "Oh no," I say. words that express my sympathy with the young, and his family may adequately may come to mind in the moment not one, of course. Saturday, February 5, 2011
Densitomter Cannon 60d
"seventeen," says the cashier. "I was wondering since what you make of seventeen may have that are so bad that it's done." "I do not know," I say. and I think, seventeen. if you have no idea of anything. when everything seems huge, but actually it is surmountable. if everything else before you. how sad it makes me that he will never know. how much I hope he's better now.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment