My Dearest Annalee ….

The Egyptians used to say that the Ka, or the soul, escaped through a man’s mouth as he was about to die. Loosened by the death rattle, drifting slowly towards the heavens. Every speck, every glimmer in a man’s eye is but a memory. Like a tiny million candles extinguished one by one. An old projector, if you will, coughing up old images right up until the batteries finally fade away. Hell, if it wasn’t for the fact that death is so damn ugly, I might be beautiful someday. At least in my own mind. Perhaps I’ll get a double feature. Everything is easier the second time around. I’ve missed your correspondence lately … Please write soon.

Published in: on April 3, 2008 at 5:15 am  Leave a Comment  

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