Imagine

I have a very faint memory but I think a correct one - one dark December morning with the radio on. The 8am news. And hearing that... It made the dark morning darker. I can fully understand that maybe he wasn't was a perfectly nice person. I think basically presciously few of us are, and those that are, are not maybe ultimately the best for humanity. In any case, whatever he was, it was and is the art, the songs, the texts. 

30 years on

30 years on the boy is still not there, he is too feeble, too scared. The man is there, self-secure, taking care of his woman, funny and secure, taking care. Such a long bloody needless journey. Now the man loves and lives, 30 years on. And the stupid weak precocious boy is still not there, and not ever will be. As beautiful and perceptive as he was. This world just never was meant for him.