postmodernlogo_pmd1            Some days it’s just all so meaningless, not even sound and fury signifying nothing, but walking and sweating and turning valves and feeding and cleaning and giving suck to mosquitoes and thinking of no real future but all that needs to be done before sleep can be had and all that needs to be done cannot be done in a lifetime.  The simple act of walking is all the significance there is.  No future but now.  No reward but a cut on the hand from who knows what, when or where.

And then I see Carmen walking too, walking somewhere, doing something she needs to do.  She looks at me and there’s a smile, though she is tired. That quiet, radiant smile is a renaissance and all my life is renewed.

Some days are that good.  That rewarding.  She.