Changing trains Brussels last week—traveling from London to Rotterdam—I saw a photo booth where Mia and I took one of my very favorite pictures of us while we on holiday a few years ago. The memory of being in that station and squeezing into that booth with Mia made me smile so big and wide. On my trip back to London—via Brussels again—I was assigned seat 88 in coach 16. 8 was a magic number for Mia, and 88 was always double magic. (For example: She had a pair of sporty shorts customized with the number 88 on them.) I know it's just a seat on a train, but it felt like a wave "Hello!" from Mia. Hello, Mia. Hello, my love. Hello.
A friend shared this Bukowski poem with me. It's plain and coarse, yet as delicious as anything by Rumi. You can watch Tom Waits read it
here.
=-=-=-=-=
your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
