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July 12, 2005

Andy: A Perfect World

"You know, I’ve played the violin my whole life," I overhear him say. "I think the thing I miss most, even more than food, is my music."

He talks to himself. After a week or two, everyone who moves here does. There's little point in conversation when there is never a raised voice, never an argument.

He crosses the patio of gold bricks and retreats into his mansion, as magnificent as all around it.

Everyone here yearns for the beautiful imperfections of the life they left behind, the curse of all eternity without subtleties in tones or tastes or tempers.

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Posted by: Tanya at July 13, 2005 05:37 PM · Permalink · Rate It: + / -   Current Rating: +1