It is too late. It is far too late, I tell myself. and the time suggests the same. Time was a sad dear friend of mine. Inside I curse my isonemia. Finally, I give up and decide to drift away with a miles davis CD. It is already night outside but I feel like the sun had only just set. usually my inner clock works better. I put on the CD and turn up the volume. I give myself completely to the music, letting it take me wherever it goes. I feel like today it's taking me to paris. My eyes are starting to close as i give myself to the landscapes in my mind. I see the streets of paris with their soft twinkling lights and it's thousand shades of blue. it's cold and romantic at the same time. it's mystic appeal is drawing me inside the dream, and into a great ocean which never seemes to end. It remainds me of the painting of the monk on the cliff - looking at the sea. a sea wide enough to swallow everything.
Suddenly I woke up at 3:00 A.M., feeling out of breath. i needed to get some air, so I opened the window. the air is frozen, with no wind to make my relief. it just stands still. Five Hours later I get out of my room. I see no one and I hear no sound. I walk quietly in the corridor to the direction of my brother's room. he hears me and walks towards me, and only say this:
"there was an accident. It's grampa. He's at the Hospital.".
I sprint back to my room, grab my cell and call my mother. she and my father are with him now, but they'll be back home in a few minutes to take a few things, before going back to the hospital. I Urge her to take me with them, mom declaims at first, but father persuades her. the rush in the corridors and the wait doesn't end. it seems like it's going forever. And then I See Him. Granpa.
