Dear readers,
I sit, wearing a red T-shirt emblazoned with a stylized turtle and the word Paraty. She sits, points to my shirt and asks what it is. I say you were with me when I got this shirt, do you remember? We were in Brazil and the sudden rain caught us after our meal and I had to get a dry shirt because I was cold. She looks away during my story, and does not respond. Several minutes later, after the conversation has moved on to other lighthearted things, she suddenly points at my chest, her smile vanishes, and she fixes my eyes in a disarming, constant gaze. Her voice a subterranean bell, hidden deep but not silenced, she whispers, "I was there. In that room. In the darkness. I died there." A second of stillness. Her smile returns. We do not revisit the subject.
May your rooms be well-lit,
walter
I sit, wearing a red T-shirt emblazoned with a stylized turtle and the word Paraty. She sits, points to my shirt and asks what it is. I say you were with me when I got this shirt, do you remember? We were in Brazil and the sudden rain caught us after our meal and I had to get a dry shirt because I was cold. She looks away during my story, and does not respond. Several minutes later, after the conversation has moved on to other lighthearted things, she suddenly points at my chest, her smile vanishes, and she fixes my eyes in a disarming, constant gaze. Her voice a subterranean bell, hidden deep but not silenced, she whispers, "I was there. In that room. In the darkness. I died there." A second of stillness. Her smile returns. We do not revisit the subject.
May your rooms be well-lit,
walter