Thursday, August 29, 2013

New Excerpt from Where I Am Born


Regarding the Old Man, b. Vilnius, Lithuania, 1921

The Old Man counted the days like beats.  He tried to put the image of his father and the other men out of his mind, but no amount of steps or days would accomplish that feat.  Nothing would ever be one note, one chord, or one pitch again.  Not forgetting, not believing, and definitely not living.  With the greatest clarity, he pictured his mother rubbing her throat, opening her mouth to sing, the songbirds perched around their summer home on the coast of Palanga.  The Old Man kept this sweet blue memory lodged in his parched throat, like a robin’s egg, making it difficult to swallow. 

1 comment:

  1. i must say you are are an amazing writter, i just love to see your blog, i appericiated your great work and i inspired a lot from you, thanks for sharing with us, keep it up.

    ReplyDelete