April 2012
2 posts
A dear friend, peer, and artist died last night. She once wrote a beautiful melody to this Rilke poem. I still sing it in my head.
Tonight is a very sad night. … Sometimes she walks through the village in her little red dress all absorbed in restraining herself, and yet, despite herself, she seems to move according to the rhythm of her life to come. She runs a bit, hesitates, stops,...
Yesterday, I was going home on the subway and we pulled into a station - I don’t even remember which one now - and the doors opened to perfectly frame a young boy playing an electric piano, his father standing over him. When the boy finished playing, the father patted the boy’s shoulder and there was a smattering of applause. Just as the applause ended, the father turned around and...
