Sunday, February 12, 2012

the man who was thursday

on a random note i love eggs benedict. so so much. today i recalled our flat brunch to this small quaint cafe in the middle of grassmarket/ haymarket/ the middle of nowhere, on a lazy saturday morning, where we had eggs benedict and they started to play live jazz (in the middle of the day?!) and it was just perfect. asmuch as i only remember the good bits, of course we all know nothing can ever be perfection itself, but that day, that day was pretty much close to it.

that said,
~
There are things to be said. No doubt.

And in one way or another
they will be said. But to whom tell

the silences? With whom share them
now? For a moment the sky is
empty and then there was a bird.

—from "There Are Things to be Said" by Cid Corman

there are so many things i want to say, but i dont dare to, because of everything that ever occured, or didn't. maturity doesnt necessarily make you happier, more stable, cooler, more successful in your endeavors, or whatever.
so it goes.


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