Thursday, August 27, 2009
Money did not buy the motor bike ride with Franchesco.
Maybe it's a means to things? A trail?
Do I care about wearing white everyday of the week in Rome? Absolutely not. It means I can purchase crimson lipstick and send a papered kiss home.
I cried for the loss of a black jacket, not for it's penny value -- It was my friend -- It took me to Tavern on The Green -- It kept the nip away on the plane to London -- It kept this girl company when no-one could.
Strained dollars got me the flight to Brussels, not the 1904 dated flat I am sojourning at now. That was connected kindness.
I cry, yell, and faint by laughter due to life's moments. A life that is supported by money, not fueled by it.