This is to record what little of my life exists. My thoughts and my soul. My memoir
Monday, 21 December 2009
There is one that came to him through an evening of dismal rain--it casts the soul into a terrible dejection.
The rain came in overflowing torrents.
We got back in absolute dark, shoeless, having been abandoned by our driver to cross unheard of perils.
We hurried, knowing how our sick one would worry. Indeed he had, but now was as though congealed in a kind of quiet desperation, and, weeping, he was playing his wonderful Prelude.