By “Detlef.Sitting in the corridor of the cancer ward I watched a woman in a bathrobe arduously moving to the window with a walker. She remained there in silence looking at the sunset. Suddenly she straightened up in her walker and said: “Ah, the sun, the sun. The beautiful sun!”
I was deeply moved to witness so much dignity.
I’m doing great. I’m a lighthouse.
A lighthouse just a little feeble against the power of the setting sun. Against the blackness of the see. Against the cold, alien, indifferent world under water.
By Detlef.
But why do I have to be against all of these? Why does the sun, the sea the darkness threaten me? Why can’t I be a part of it? Why can’t I blend into the symphony?
But I do.
I’m doing great. I’m a lighthouse.
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