Across the street from where I’m staying is the Sheraton where a man bludgeoned his wife and two children to death a few months ago. A few hours elapsed between when he killed them and when he returned to the room to kill himself. What did he do in that time? Apparently he was involved in some small Ponzi scheme that was about to be uncovered, and he considered terrible deaths preferential. It happened in what is now room 1028. They changed the number afterwards. We think. “Conflicting reports from housekeepers.”
I was sitting outside there drinking coffee with my two friends here the other day and there was a little injured hummingbird tweeting (not the online thing) on the ground, trying to walk. They said there was nothing we could do. It kept falling onto its belly as it walked. I touched it but its feathers were so downy I couldn’t even feel them. We went to Target and when we came back, it was gone, and to be frank, I was almost relieved I didn’t have to see it suffering anymore.
I wish you could keep a hummingbird as a pet.
“And the people hide their faces
And they hide their eyes
Cause the city’s dying
And they don’t know why
Oh, Baltimore
Man, it’s hard just to live” ~ “Baltimore” by Nina Simone and Randy Newman. Both versions are good.
Nightmares can be cathartic…sleep well.
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