Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Victoria Williams: 0269

Today the ceiling finally collapsed. And as the dust was settling, Alan brushed the roof tiles from his shoulders and said, ‘I know how it feels.’ The piano was broken.
‘Why don’t we play anymore?’ I said sadly.
He said, ‘We are constrained by your age.’
‘Lately I feel as though I can see anything with fresh eyes. Perhaps I am finally being reborn?’
‘No, it is the fact that you are ageing terribly that makes you feel this way.’