A day that has passed is way sadder than a day still to come. It was his birthday. Her birthday. Another birthday. A funeral cortege was killed by a truck. Ten kids were left without their parents. I saw it on the news. That is why I don't do funerals. I don't do weddings either. Unless I am blackmailed.
For the third time I have tried finding Rondo Capricioso at the bookshop. They had three more copies, but were unable to locate them. I am probably the last person here who has not read the book.
I am trying. I have my questions, I have my words. It's not a sollution. Dismiss poetry.