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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Friendship · #1966604
A letter to a close friend from Perez Zeledon, 10.12.2013 at 18:15.
Postcard to Gare from the hotel balcony

Ten minutes past the Angelus and you still aren't here .... and never have been. After bells stop ringing the ears, the song of the city returns. Chirps from dusky birds, chatter from park benches, the rev of traffic that shows no patience, knows ... but doesn't care. You're out there ... somewhere ... Gare, and I sit alone in this balcony chair.

What can I see that you can't? Lights of the season flicker and the cotton candy and churros beckon. The Festival of Spending has quickened, the pockets thin and avarice thickens. 'Tis a season that has abandoned it's virtue for a bank note, the only note it can croak.

But you're not here. You're there where snow quiets the jingles, those incessant jingles that loop, the same song ringing over and over and ... And there ... there are few birds and those cold and hungry. Your season of cotton candy is long past when powder sugar falls from the sky. But here or there, it's the same festival of spend, spend, spend ...

How the lights blink, how lights flicker, now the church empties and streets fill up with sadness and joy.

© Kåre Enga

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