Home.
The word itself evokes images and feelings. Often we don't know the full story of a person until you get a peek at their home life. Saturday night I got an eye full. A karaoke compatriot of mine lives way out in the boonies with nine cats and what appears to be a well-preserved, but dusty museum of a life that must have disappeared some years ago.
There was so much sadness in the air. The musty, old remnants of a reality stalled out stood out in sledgehammer whacked sore thumb fashion beneath the slight traces of contemporary life. Though many rain drenched branches were burned away with faith and gasoline as the small group of us chatted sex, drugs, and apocalypse out back, the inside reeked of a place needing an emotional clearing before psychological asphyxiation takes complete hold.
(129)
No comments:
Post a Comment