i spy with my little eye something beginning with you know something beginning with you know something beginning with you know something beginning with me saying good bye now you know me saying goodbye now you know saying good bye now saying good bye now saying good now saying good saying good you know you know you know

hmm. saying good bye to things is not so easy. determining what one is saying goodbye to can be harder still.
an old poem comes to my mind, suddenly,

here i be waiting and waiting
my thoughts crashing out to the sea
somewhere you are living and being
and waiting and waiting for me
and so we are waiting not knowing we're waiting
not knowing we're knowing we're free
and so you are waiting not knowing you're waiting
for you do not yet know me

something like that, i don't really remember it very well.

well waitings over...

there is a story of a young man in love with a woman... he offers her his heart, he will do anything for her love... and so she asks him to wait outside her window every night for a year, and on the final night he will know her answer by a lantern burning in her window... so every night he waits, sitting in the street across from where she lives, from dusk til dawn he waits under cool stars, through sultry and bitter nights, in blizzards that numb his fingers and rain that soaks his feet, people see him as they pass on into the nights, some spit on him, taking him for a rootless tramp without direction, some bring him hot soup, some sit with him spinning yarns with witty twists and turns, some stop to tell him of their lives, their dreams, their sorrows, some - a few - follow his gaze from a moving distance to a small window veiled in darkness and smile, or frown, or scratch their heads, some - most - don't see him at all as they walk by, sometimes no one passes and his solitude is echoed by the empty streets that too wait for the light of a new morning... 364 nights pass, the lantern at the window still stubbornly silent, and on the morning of the 365th day, with just one night left to go, the young man gets up, turns round and walks away...




listening to: prince ' dead on it' from the black album