diana ross, are you cold?

because you about to get a blanket.


there were all the people talking and laughing and crying, and she was just standing there stroking his hair and choking out sobs as if he slept soundly. every convulsion seemed to shake her even more than the last, and i was nearing the front of the line. i saw his face and began to search for the door. i wanted to leave, i couldn't do it. this was all too much emotion in one spot. my mouth was dry and papery and i stood, looked at him, and looked to her.

"how are you?"

"i've been better."

"i'm sorry."

and at that moment i found the door.


this week has been some rough gem caught deep within the mines. it was beautiful, picturesque, and devilish.


until again.