The whole city scape is a delicious day after pill, a three way of two towers sucked to rubble, two parents named Past and Future; both hassles. All thats left of us, like tinsil wrapping around aethiest Christmas trees, are seeds like this comment, lilely tossed to concrete treated like rich soil. Pick one up and plant it in you, theres not mucb time left.
Rolfs death has turned sweet 16. I cried over his absense tonight for the first time since I cried laat, 16 years ago. I didnt understand myself over the years, meaning why I felt so cold and absent of care of who we were to each other, but for whatever reason, Rolf resurected for me tonight, whole, im glad this piece exists on line. Your portait of him, is intensely accurate. Prayer cireworks up forever.
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