Thursday, May 19, 2011
The Sad Circle of Life
I was in the back yard when I noticed something hanging in the bushes:
I maneuvered around to get a better look. Let's linger on the gruesome details, shall we? It's so rare for me to actually use the camera instead of just letting it take up space in my pocket.
I disentangled the corpse and placed it on a bier of newspaper, exposed to the elements further back in the yard. A Plains Indian funeral...
The sun shone brightly and cheerfully, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. If it had been raining, I would have cried, but I didn't want anyone to be able to tell how I felt inside.
I've had time to come to terms with the inevitable. I'm of a philosophic turn of mind. It is all the grand Circle of Life. Hakuna matata as they say in the Lion King. New Orleans is neither celluloid, nor a broadway place, nor an ice capade. It is not Disney-fied. It's real life, gritty and muddled at its core. Sometimes sad things happen in the real world.