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To my friend,
I thought we had more time but today it seems maybe not. Are these to be the last words I say to you? If so, I will strive for clarity. I know what I want to say. My mind is full of memories…
Evenings in your basement flat…running down the stairs, knocking on the door. Talking into the night… EaZyD joined us later… people, politics, football, boxing, holidays, art, music, work… all the things that are the fabric of life…. that seem so mundane until they are gone. Music always in the background… usually jazz, sometimes opera… great sax and trumpet, big bands… so many great sounds… your walls, with musical rhythms running up and down and around.
Our evening classes – every autumn, we started something; every New Year, we dropped out… pressure of work …hard to believe now, though we always knew work wasn’t the most important thing in life! Enjoying meals and lunches with friends and family, shooting the breeze in sun and snow. So much fun, and, so much laughter. I will remember our trips to Soho… a place that resonates with the sound and the feel, the history, of jazz. Dark basements, great pizza, fab sounds - shared pleasures.
Most of all I will remember you… black hair, white skin, dark eyes… a faint air of sixties hippy chick… your laughter, your sarcasm, your black humour that so married with mine, your kindness to me in my bleakest moments, your steadfastness and patience in your bleakest moments…
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