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The sunday after Deniz died, I woke up around 8:30-9:00, in her guestroom's bed. There was no sound. There was no singing. It was just sharp, painful silence. It hurted so much. I loved her.

It's been almost two weeks according to the calendars, but I've lost track of time. Days went in and out, the sun dancing in the sky with the moon. Some things went so slow, and others went so fast. Things happened, and I don't even know how they happened, even though I was obviously there the whole time, being an actor in the events.

Now I am back home, and my new roommate, Diva, is looking at me, purring.


( 7 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 23rd, 2005 10:47 pm (UTC)
you were there, and those of us who relied on your calm strenght as a shoulder to help face the maelstrom of events, thank you.
Feb. 23rd, 2005 11:11 pm (UTC)
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:

I hope that Diva takes good care of you, and that you take good care of her.
Feb. 24th, 2005 01:43 am (UTC)
As You Like It... I'm leaning more to The Merchant of Venice and a pound of Shylock's flesh...
Feb. 24th, 2005 05:32 am (UTC)

Especially with how skinny Pierre is.
Feb. 24th, 2005 03:34 pm (UTC)
Someone will have to explain that to me. :-)
Feb. 24th, 2005 12:24 am (UTC)
New roommate ? Take pictures.
Feb. 24th, 2005 12:52 pm (UTC)
You did wonderfully, I know how you felt about her, empty times indeed.
( 7 comments — Leave a comment )