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February 28, 2004

When I was maybe 8 he told me that she was trying to kill him with air put into his vanes, and I barely understood what he was saying because of his stroke, not long before they came to visit us on an afternoon when I was home alone. She told me that he tried to kill her by locking her into the back room, where she survived because of the package she had hidden from him and under the bed. I was 8 but I did not really believe either story.
I saw him again in their apartment, two days before his death. She had him brought back from the institution, so he could die in peace after they remarried on his deathbed.
I remember her with his name as her last, though she died having a different name, the one of the man who followed… I never got to meet the last husband.
This marriage had been a rather short one… oh well… those were different times and places, they were a tougher breed of people… and there is so much more to the story that I can even tell… and even the things I saw, were seen from the perspective of a rather interested listening boy.
And what does happen to the blood when we move on, start turning to dust… I know a lot happens… maybe I should read some more Damien Hirst…


i certainly wouldn't suggest hirst images right before bedtime (too many nightmares)...perhaps something a bit more warm and fuzzy, say..from the champman brothers. : )

Posted by: christy on February 29, 2004 04:40 AM

or me

Posted by: Emily on February 29, 2004 02:35 PM

that's so sweet... thank you... : )

Posted by: Witold Riedel on February 29, 2004 03:20 PM
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