I have renounced my renouncing. I saw the light.
No. Easter dinner was nice though. We had lamb. Many years ago I was adopted by an all female family of Greek gypsies. They raised me like a wolf, on a diet of lamb, red wine and spanikopita. It partially explains some of my erratic moonlit behavior. We tried to call the oldest sister, Zoie, to have her say grace before we ate, over the phone. An ancient family tradition.
They have been trying to get rid of me for years but it never worked out. So here I am, a roamer no more.
Speaking of gypsies... I was on the subway coming home from Brooklyn a few weeks ago and, as there often is, there was a person playing music on the platform, busking. As I approached I saw a young dark-haired, dark-eyed girl that played a haunting and plaintive gypsy melody on the accordion. So lost and so sweet. Her dark hair was pulled back and her head was covered with a blue silk bandana. Her worn silver earrings hung down and swung with the rhythm that she played. The music filled the empty train tunnel as it drifted away and echoed from wall to wall. You could barely see it in the air as it danced and spun down the dark tunnel. I stood there for a while, thinking that maybe I recognized the tune. I thought that perhaps I had. I wished the train away as it approached so that I could stand and listen a little longer. Something I rarely do. I dropped a dollar in her open hat. I leaned in and listened for more. The rumbling, rattling train approached. I felt like I nearly had the song as the train screeched to a final halt, its metal screams almost obscuring the tune and destroying the veil of its shadow. I stepped backwards onto the train and stared at the pulsating squeezebox as the doors closed on me and the train pulled away into a passage of dimness.
I took that melody with me as I headed apart, its ink eyes seeing the world for me.
"Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, and shares the nature of infinity." -Wordsworth