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2001-02-20 || 09:10 a.m. || first day of spring. || oh. i was all ready to write about how wonderful it is that spring is here, that e.e. cummings's ghost is everywhere today, in the birds and in the sidewalk that's already hot this morning, but. but the son of a woman working upstairs died last night. he was twenty-one. i don't know who the woman is but i can hear people in this office crying. and no one is really talking, except in very hushed voices. making sounds that aren't quite words. i can hear bits and pieces: intensive care. in the night. i can hear gasps and sobbing. everything becomes very inappropriate when there is death in the room. death just by association. but i guess death is always around, if just by association. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |