I’m supposed to go watch a man bring a tenor saxophone to life, but I can’t stop thinking about the bombs. Everywhere I see bombs, and I have no faith. In anything.
No one talks about the Why. Only Who and Where.
There is no reason for the bombs, yet there are all the reasons.
Who will talk about the bombs? Who will stop the bombs?
Who will be bombed next? Who will be the next person to die from the bombs without even knowing Why?
The tenor saxophone has the answers I need. I will listen to the horn, feel its healing tones wash through me. I will not think of the bombs anymore. I will think about the horn and life and love and Ramona.
I will not think about the bombs until tomorrow.