Listen….

Listen I’m black. I mean I’m back, No ‘el here; and the whispers in my head. we are going strong..

Believe me when i tell you…i’ve got nothing to say.

except, a memory. You can’t remember memories, you can only let them come.

My early memories come back….as whispers on the wind. That wind that blew on me when she left.

I was four, possibly three. Crouched on the kitchen floor, toy gun in my hand. I creep under the table. i point the the gun at Juno. She’s gnarls, She threatens with her teeth. I back away. The barrel of the gun her instinct tells her is a risk.

How i remember that lesson. taught to me by a dog.

Ban the gun. it’s evil.

Or is it, on the other hand, only as good ar as bad as the person using it. Chwedl Shane.

that’s a riddle. and i don’t believe Shane’s words, except in an ideal world. . the gun is a weapon that cuts out time, cuts out the hassle.

that’s not a recomendation.

But A lot of good people i think pick up a gun. Because they’re confused, because of a momentary lapse in their Reason (Overhead the albatross flies motionless in time for tea). And they do bad things with it.

Can anything good be done by a gun?