The Last Hill Shard
Is it possible to write on flimsy nose tissue with a pencil?
You bet it is. I’m doing it right now, a salute to decades of Shard writing on yellow pads while sitting in my van on this hill, a salute written in pencil on nose tissue because I forgot the yellow pad and ballpoint at home.
Early Sunday morning, writing straight into the hereafter.
The hereafter. Death is death, be it slow or fast, painful or peaceful; once the line is crossed it all smooths into sameness. It’s life that has quirks and glitches. Death is the only true peace.
So here’s a P.S. to my hill Shards.
All bases are now covered.
Let the angels sing.
