| And as I write this in my mother’s tongue, and the sky above me is wiggling the toe of my sweet and tender wife in the wind that carries the airplane and the automobiles upon the setting sun in Japanese culture, far away from the upcoming Olympic Games, a fly is sitting on my knee, just below where they cut the skin to make the graft to my arm 43 years ago, upon which I am writing here with a point five millimeter pen that covers this white page, slowly, line after line, just above the underlying art book that rests on my tummy, which is covered by my blue tee shirt, and below my bathing suit that is patiently waiting for the swimming pool to become empty of those elderly ladies who betray the tranquility of the blue water in the sun, which is by now almost ready to set, while the wind is picking up to the point that I have to hold my book and pen firmly in my hands, so they are not being carried away into the noise of yet another airplane above me, while the clouds in their sheep-like appearance definitely show all the signs that the wind is blowing from the south, while –to the contrary- it whirls around in circles here on the 44th floor of this Manhattan building, with Angelika’s neatly pedicured red toe nails swinging slightly in the wind, and the sirens of a by-passing ambulance car down at the Lincoln Center reminding the untouched mind that all is not as well in the world as my 67 trillion cell strong cell colony that enjoys being still alive, even though it is not easy to hold the darn thing together … just imagine! Just imagine how cool it would be if all the living things in the Universe were singing the song of IMAGINE, and all the Quebec buses were not to crowd the entrance to the Strawberry Fields to the point that the yellow and the white flowers there are praying every night to the moon that the next day at sunrise the tourist nightmare would end and all the losers of the world would stay home. But wait, where would all the money come from if all the losers of the world would suddenly stay home? And would all the losers of the world stay in bed and produce new losers? Is that the explanation why we are soon going to be seven billion people on this planet? |