Most moments pass like hurtling trains,
Between the day jobs and the distractions we use to fill the gaps, and the occasional fortunes - good, bad or otherwise.
As we all pick up the pieces of our lives.
But this day, everything seems slower.
The breeze hurts on the skin
Something simple, like absentmindedly scratching an itch on my forehead causes a small, noticeable suffering.
A leaden step
that makes everywhere I have to be seem a million miles away and hardly worth taking the effort for.
Even the morning cup of tea isn't the same
And my guess is that today I just won't feel myself.
I could ask the same questions I've been asking these past three years but I'm not going to.
I'm old now and the working day won't let me writhe and wrack in the mire as I've been known to do
but in this painfully strung out moment, as with all other moments, never think I've forgotten your crazy brain,
Our crazy schemes,
Those crazy days.
I will remember your insanity forever and beyond, Jake.
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