Men in a barroom will often fall silent when a woman comes in. ............ I don't know what i would call it myself. It was the memory of someone in each man's past. Someone like me, long ago, far away, come back to mind again for a moment, before the memory darkened again and went out forever. It was life's last afterglow glancing off the faces of the dead as i brushed by them.
reblogged via swiftlytiltingplanet blog