verklempt

"Henry and Sheldon walked all the way to the steps of the Nippon Kan Theater, across from Kobe Park and in the shadow of the Japanese-owned Astor Hotel, which stood silent like an empty coffin. The prettiest part of Japantown, even vacant as it was, looked beautiful in the afternoon. Cherry blossom covered the sidewalks, and the streets smelled alive.

"What are we doing here?" Henry asked, as he watched Sheldon open his case and take his saxophone.

"We're living."

Henry looked around the deserted streets, remembering the people, the actors, the dancers, the old men gossiping and playing cards. Children running and playing. Keiko sitting on the hillside drawing in her sketchbook. Laughing at Henry. Teasing him. The memories warmed him, just a little. Maybe there was life to be lived.

His ears perked up as Sheldon drew a sharp breath, then began a slow wailing on his sax. A sad, melancholy affair, the kind Henry had never heard him play on the street or in the clubs. It was heartbreaking, but only for a moment.

Then he slipped into something festive — something up-tempo, with a soul and a heartbeat. 

He played for no one, but at the same time, Henry realized he was playing for everyone."

— Hotel on the Corner of Bitter & Sweet, Jamie Ford

udal cuain

what if you're right?

maybe i'm a hypocrite?

father, how long more will this season last? i don't think i can hold on much longer.

help me back up the things i write, the songs i sing, the words i say.

even when i am faithless, you remain faithful.

aleatory

this used to be enough.

but we've changed, you and i, so much so.

at least we're always changing.

that way, hopefully someday, this will be enough again.