Sometimes there are pictures that you don’t have to look at for too long to know the faces or particularly the face. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the early morning just as the sun is bleeding into my apartment and as it does I wake up only to take a second flutter of eyelids to look at the photo frame.
I know the photo as if I am in the glass that contains it and feels every part of light and every sound that is hitherto contained. We used to speak of the language and how much it changed and yet she never once read what I had written. I sell myself to the world and the person that loved me most never once even read the music. She would speak to me daily of intangible things and I would sit and nod in agreement she told me the only thing that ever remains is the thought of the all Loving Creator that made her and then made me.
Why must I sit and listen to pieces of music alone without her encouragement at the melodies that I would make and practice over and over again where the piano keys had been humbled and jealous all at the same time. The first few months weren’t so bad but now there is only an aloofness that remains.