"For sale.
Baby shoes.
Never worn."
--- Ernest Hemingway
Title: Dancing the Pasacaglia
I remember us dancing the pasacaglia cheek to guancica at our wedding. The guitar player sat on his wooden stool and strummed all night long. I was happy holding you in my arms, indebted to the mental patient for introducing us. But then, where were you when he later choked to death on salted sunflower seeds?