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[an error occurred while processing this directive] I didn't go to work today. Instead, I sat at home. Opened a bottle of synthol. Some L'eau de Marschande crap. Sat on my porch, drinking from this plastic bottle, thinking about times long gone. Not that it mattered anyway, what was done was done. I could still feel her hair caressing my shoulders, her soft lips uttering but the kindest and gentlest of words. I felt her head resting on mine, one eye open, gazing at a distant star. It was peace. It was no more. Just a barren landscape, those squatters sifting through the junk, looking for their daily dose of hype. Why was it so? I'm sorry Majorie.

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