CONTALINA
I haven't had a break like this since 1962.
Upstairs in the dead guy's lounge, my father
was sitting. Looking mean and all heated up
about something. He'd just punched the wall.
Apparently. Leaving a good-sized hole.
-
Translating any emotion is difficult, mainly
because no one sees through another's eyes.
And even if I did, I'd never have my fathers
intent. Anyway, he's gone a long time now,
and I still never understand a thing about
what went one between him and me.
-
It's a sorrowful, long, slow and sad thing.
A powerful, long, slow, and sad, thing.
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