My life/lives are now flashing before my eyes. I’m sitting under a tree in India and I think to myself, “I’ve got it!”. FLASH. I’m in medieval Britain and I’m pulling a sword from a stone. FLASH. I’m lying on my back, high on a scaffold, frescoing a chapel ceiling. FLASH. I’m sitting by a fire in a drafty room writing a novel called, “A Tale of Two Cities”. FLASH. I’m a bug on a freeway meeting a windshield for the first (and last) time. FLASH. I’m on a bus in Alabama and I’m refusing to surrender my seat. FLASH, I’m a paperboy. FLASH I’m a father. FLASH. I’m an artist. FLASH. I’m gone.


March 01, 2018

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