God works in listerious ways. Or so I'm told. All I know is that I was awakened by a huge urge to hear "Rocket Man" by Elton John. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, is that your way of knocking on my door? You didn't even particularly like Elton John.
But listen I must, on headphones with volume at maximum, a glass of wine and drown out the birds at 6 a.m. on a Sunday.
And so I do. Brigitte just discovered me and wondered at the pile of Kleenex but what can I do.
You know, Elton really DOES sound like José Feliciano. Okay, José it is tomorrow, Father.
It's a lovely song. He's out there.
ReplyDeletethat's the days when he'd walk to and from the Pan Am building. Pan Am is gone. But we keep the memories.
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