Sunday, July 22, 2012

Day 204/366

"We walked down the lane in the storm. Stormtroopers of our own right. Occasionally, a tree or a street dog would have to be dodged. But it was the kind of fun I'd been missing in life.

She paused on our way out of the house and looked back for a moment. Somewhere, we knew the journey ahead would be too long to make it back home. But another home would be found one day. A cave, a garden, a lost valley in the mountains. We knew we were meant to be vagabonds since the second our eyes met. I miss that free spirited lover of mine."

Grandfather stopped writing today. He left me his diary with hundreds of yellows pages of adventure and love and the life he led or would have liked to lead.

I'll always wonder if there was more to tell - stories 'not worth writing down' according to him; words I would have cherished more than he could imagine. It's hard to accept that he's lost his mind.

What a delicate thing the body is! One day you're the holder of knowledge, speak unspoken languages and find poetry in everything. The next, you're as good as dead to the world.

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