Deborah

every so often when you are exploring the oceans of water in which the leri continental land mass floats, you find the home of Deborah. you look skyward and see one yellow star which is slightly brighter than the rest. it is called the sun, and directly beneath its faint light you see her: not where you thought she was, or, at least, not where she was the last time you visited.

this time you can hear music from inside, and you see deb playing freehand on a small Kimball console piano which she rented with her meager wages. as she plays the melody, the piano transforms before your eyes into a nine foot antique European grand. you lose yourself in a moment of luscious pain and remembrance, and the beauty of music.

When deb sees you standing there she gets up and hugs you but the music continues. It is a player piano. On top of it is a picture of Scotto Who Lives In A Far Off Land, and a small stuffed animal named inner gorilla.

The library is stuffed with comic books, poetry, and all the letters you ever wrote to her. O the cat rubs on your leg for attentions, and then curls up in The Comfy Chair for a nap.

Late into the night there are other visitors, guitarists, singers, writers. Gypsy dancers clap thier hands rhythmically and stamp thier feet on the wooden floors late into the night. Belly dancers too. and Celtic dancers. Wine flows and there is much conversation.

You are feeling tired from your wandering so deb curls up with you in bed and you fall asleep, and dream.

In the morning she fixes you a bowl of Oreos and milk.

Continue onward... Erica

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