I’m a happy fan because of all comments on your post, you only replied to two of them, and one of them is mine.
I bought Pirawolf, the book which Ed modeled for the cover, and posted the picture on Instragran.
I thought expecting him to like the post would be too much. But when I woke up this morning, I found his comment on the picture.
Thank you, Ed. You made my day.
If you walk out on me, I’m walking after you.
(Foo Fighters, 1997)
I experienced a weird dream few days ago.
In the dream, I was on a business trip with some people from work. One of us, a girl my age, brought her baby. The city we visited had a strange security system. It has one entrace, a gate—more like a door—made of glass framed by furnished wood. The gate was guarded and should you want to enter, you’d have to hand over the invitation or the likes as proof that you have some business coming to the city.
As soon as we passed the gate, we searched for a warteg and had lunch. But after having lunch, my colleague’s brought fell comatose. The baby’s eyes were wide opened but they were bank. The baby didn’t move and hardly breathe. My colleague panicked.
I remembered having a friend who worked as a doctor in the city. I called him to come over.
Having checked the baby, my friend told me the food we had eaten was poisonous and it contaminated my colleague’s breast milk. My other colleagues was terrified and we decided to leave the city at the very second. One of us disagreed, though. He wanted to stay. So we left him behind and took a bus home.
We were half way home when the tv on the bus aired a news about a terrorist infiltrating the city and planting a bomb in the hotel we were supposed to stay in.
One of my colleagues was still there. I had to save him.
I asked the driver to stop the bus and ran back to the city.
The guards stopped me at the gate since I couldn’t show them my invitation. I had already handed it over the first time I had come here, now I didn’t have it anymore. I begged them to let me in but they didn’t move.
A man who looked like a commissioned officer showed up and told the guards to open the gate for me. But when I was about to step in, the bomb exploded. The whole city was destroyed.
I was evacuated with a very big double-decker. Everyone who survived were on that bus. I searched everywhere but I couldn’t find my colleague.
I told him to hold the glass on the stem, not the bowl, for his body temperature will affect the taste of the wine. He said, “Why worry? Didn’t you say I’m a cold person?” Ah. I thought he’d say, “Why should I listen to someone who doesn’t even drink wine?” That sure was unpredictable.
Maybe you were right
to fade from sight
like a too good dream
Maybe I misplaced
on a losing team
(Mike Uva, 2005)