Laugh like raindrops
I miss S. She was like poetry. It doesn't always make sense but you like to have it in your life.She has a laugh like raindrops dancing on a dusty pavement. But you cannot negotiate with the mad or with those who cannot speak in a language you can understand. You mime at each other, sure that you are making yourself known, but each expression brings its own chance of being misinterpreted and, lacking a common tongue to explain it in, can collapse into noise, the signal wasted and unknown.
She has no belief in herself, which she ought to because it would have merit, but an overweening belief in what she does, which she ought not to because it does not always.
I know, I should not talk about her. But I am safe because she will not be listening, and even if she overheard, she would not understand or even try to. And I know, I should not think about her. I should blow away the dust from my hands and put my hands to some better task. But I miss S and how can you forget sunshine when the day is clouded over?
posted by Dr Zen @ 1:30 pm
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