Somewhere in the dark someone was playing a cello. He couldn't lift his head to find the source of the sound, but it soothed him nonetheless. He could feel the water (or was it blood?) pooling around his cheek where it lay pressed to the pavement of the cold alley. His breath was so shallow it hardly rippled the water (or was it blood?) that he could feel in his eye and against the corner of his mouth. 'I should have listened more to the cello,' he thought. For him it seemed like the most beautiful sound in the world, blended with the gentle patter of the falling rain tapping on all the scattered junk in the alley. The garbage cans, the newspaper, the bottles, each one had a slightly different timbre when the rain fell against it. When you're in the dirty city, you have to love the cleansing rain, doing what it can to wash away the stains of too many lives crammed into one place. It washed the dust away from the windows. It ran down the walls to the ground. It ran past the body of the man, dead now, and carried away the pool of his blood. It washed all of these sins and secrets and stains down into the underground, where they belong.
Just playing around with words a little today. Nothing much to say. My mom called me Wednesday night to tell me that she quit smoking. A couple of weeks ago she awoke in the night coughing up blood, lots of it. Jerry, her boyfriend for the last twenty years, took her to the Emergency Room. Over the past couple of weeks, they have discovered that she has the beginnings of emphysema. Her pulmonologist said that she should be fine as long as she quits smoking now. So, she's trying. I think she'll do it.
That's really all. So bloody, this post. Sorry about that.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
