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"One day, is another one.."
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Love Song
My father is dying, and my mother
has never been so in love. It's not
over death she's swooning;
it's the sweetness that has softened
him. She lotions and socks his feet, shaves
his cheeks so he's fresh for their evening
date in the dusk-quilted bed, the oxygen
tank murmuring in the background.
As she fine-tunes the tubes in his nostrils,
she smooths his wisps, sighs, "Oh, sweetheart."
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TALES FROM THE VIOLIN
I can't think of the day, I was happy. Yet I am no these days. Agony and beauty
are never the same. As my days begins, my violin lessons also continue. "Your neck must feel pain, if you do not feel it,
you are not a violinist. But simply a mirage of one."
Must I suffer this some
more? "We are violinist, Rifah," my instructor peered a stern look at me, "We sell our skills, not our life."
That bothers me. Did he get that out from the Geisha movie or something? I'm serious. Can't he juct tell me I fucking suck
at the violin? CAN'T HE?
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| Smile everyday, Don't let fate bring it away. |
THE dance of snow-Sayuri's dance
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