It was a rainy day. I called my mother, so far away, and asked what she remembered of the day I was born. She didn't have many details. We talked for a long time. Then we were interrupted by a customer and hung up.
Ravel was playing in the shop, and my desk was covered with some new books I'm working at. The man had a large Sax case at hand, and he tried on several items while looking around the shop. He asked if I was a student of literature, or music. I am neither, not anymore. Upon leaving the man shook my hand and said this:
They say that happiness is spending a minute in the company of a beautiful person.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment