the ceiling had a painting on it in our room in France so we were living underneath some angels in a dance
my husband was not feeling well and so we went to bed he woke up complaining of an aching in his head
he said a hundred people had come through our room that night that one by one the old and young asked if he was all right
one by one the old and young lined up to touch his hand he spent the night explaining they had come to the wrong man
the concierge was less than helpful when we asked her the next day with coffee and a magazine we went to the desk to pay
"what happened in that room?" he asked "a death or something strange?" she smiled at him politely and returned to him his change
well, what I'd like to know and this will be a mystery, is with all the people in that room why none appeared to me?
when we sleep so close together that our hair becomes entwined I must have missed that moment in the gateway to his mindTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
