Where Things Go To Die

It was during his term in the city of the North State. Things were different, more urban. Where there should be fields of grains and produce, there were concrete pathways to a closely clubbed community that was seemingly overcrowded.

Houses seemed as if duplicated from the other. Homesickness was inevitable. It was as if a fresh water fish was thrown into the polluted sea.

A recurring dream occurred to him within the first two weeks.

The village – a highway road – cars passing by – a picturesque sky above – the beach and the sea – a dog chasing something by the edge of the waves – a lady walking much further from where he stood and then it was all black.

At this disturbing time in his life, he met a beautiful young lady. It was a chance encounter. She was kind and dearly loved the people around her. It didn’t take long for him to be a part of the young lady’s life. In her company, he wouldn’t feel homesick and the dreams stopped.

The young lady saw a lot of death. It was her job; she was a nurse. In a couple of months the milkman lost her. Not in body or life, but in spirit. By loving everyone so dearly, she made them a part of her life, and when they would die, so would a part of her life.

– Milkman 1985


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