Last night I had a visit from K.F. while I slept. She was her old self--laughing, taunting, teasing, worrying, wondering. We drove around somewhere, and she pointed out trees and named them, always fascinated by the names, the proper nouns, the declensions, the roots and ramblings of language. It was good to see her again, not ten months since she ascended, so vividly, more vividly in fact than when I saw her at Zuni's as she looked at the painting of Diana, bow and arrow taut against a deer, and waiting for our ride home, looking faraway into a private distance, as if destined to be there soon.
Last night I had a visit from K.F. while I slept. She was her old self--laughing, taunting, teasing, worrying, wondering. We drove around somewhere, and she pointed out trees and named them, always fascinated by the names, the proper nouns, the declensions, the roots and ramblings of language. It was good to see her again, not ten months since she ascended, so vividly, more vividly in fact than when I saw her at Zuni's as she looked at the painting of Diana, bow and arrow taut against a deer, and waiting for our ride home, looking faraway into a private distance, as if destined to be there soon.
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