Monday, August 27, 2012

Day 240/366

The little girl looked up to the musician. He was loud, funny and happy. Well, at least he seemed it. She had never imagined herself talking to him about the autobiography of a banana or weighing out the potential argument of diamond versus carbon. Every time the two would meet, there would be hugs, name calling and absurdity that noone else would understand. She had started to even make notes about the person through each interaction, be it in person or texts. The latter was the preferred means of communication because of the distance. There was no idol worship. He was just like any other person. Except for the fact that he made music to earn his living. He sometimes thought he was bad at it. She took on the responsibility to remind him what he had accomplished. The two shared another experience of different magnitudes-loss. He had been older than she had been when it had happened. But she knew she could trust him. There was no particular reason why. They met and talked and laughed and lived. When he went on to the other realm, she would ensure that his life's works were preserved. She would sort out the collection gathered over the many years of his being alive, often wishing he weren't. Like the pharaohs buried their loved ones with possessions to carry onto the next life, she would make the germination of another musical seed possible. Their friendship could never end.

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