My good friends came over for dinner last night. We cooked together, and listening to music, chatted and dreamed. My friend Zana is beautiful and talented (and sometimes I find myself in awe of her) and is a musician singer/songwriter. She played and sang for us and made R cry, it was so beautiful. You can find her amazing music here.
While we ate there was a yell from down the hallway, and I met my neighbour. 83 years old, Beryl has lived at the end of my street for 23 years. She walked up the block to post a letter to her son, and, as she passed my house, became dizzy from the exertion and lent on our front gate to shout out to us. Grasping her elbow I slowly shuffled her home and she told me stories and we admired the front gardens all the way down the street. Her favourite is 3 doors down from me, a garden made entirely of garden gnomes.
When she was safe inside I was reminded of my youth and healthy body and sprinted home, because I'm still young, and I can, so it would seem a shame not to.
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