Today tastes like burlap, glass, and burnt bone--a painful sort of sweetness.
Grandfather has passed on. The funeral is tomorrow.
I fly tonight.
Back soon.
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Nuggets of insight in a rich dreamy sauce. You want fries with that?
2 comments:
I'm sorry for your loss, Socka. It's a fine thing that he could be in his own bed.
Sorry to hear, Spike.
Though I must say that it sounds like he lived a gloriously long life. I hope there was a celebration, as well as the sadness, of his passing...
Thinking good thoughts and sending them your way
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