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Not entirely sure why, but flooded with memories today, this year, 11 years after.

Having run down to the metro, up to the apartment, up to the hospital. At about this time, sitting around with friends, looking at each others, with the phone ringing, knowing it was her mother's weekly call. All the people who came to help, in an amazing storm of friendship, telling each others stories, and managing to laugh together. That great service, that I still haven't listened to the recording of. Sitting on the floor in her empty room after everyone had gone, with a bright winter blue sky, crying. Her piano in my living room, with Diva whining at it.

She shaped my life in so many ways, I'm so glad I knew her, however briefly.

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Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
dcoombs
Feb. 12th, 2016 04:47 pm (UTC)
I vividly remember you phoning me in the middle of the night to tell me, Pierre. And I remember racing to the hospital to meet everyone, declining a brunch invitation on Hub's azerty keyboard, and spending the day in the exact storm of friendship you describe. And I haven't listened to the recording either.
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