Someone to make a cup of tea for
A lot of things died when Ryan died. Almost everything.
Beayty didn’t die, I still see it often.In the sky right now, on the side of a building, in my weird sockless neighbour with velcro shoes walking back from the black and white grocery.
But it’s not the same as it was before. It’s a whole lot sadder. Because it’s fleeting. It’s going to die too. Everything does.
I suppose that’s why there are artists. Naively trying to keep a little bit of it around, so we can touch it, so it never dies. Screaming‘This happened! And it will never happen again just like this. Isn’t it wonderful?’
But now, a part of me doesn’t believe it, doesn’t trust it as wholly as I used to, because he’s all so fuzzy now.