The Funeral
Thinking back thirty years to that hazy day, a cool breeze moving cherry blossom petals, pink confetti swirling. A plume of blue grey rises up from a spent wick, only a small dying ember remaining, the celebration of the departed now complete. Columns of light pass through stained glass, a thick illuminating hue across an
Columbus
A calm expanse, the body, broken and still, floating on an immense surface, vast and mighty. No alliance between man and ocean. the Sunday papers, trying to cross the channel, makeshift dinghy.