Classical music aficionado afflicted by wanderlust.

Went to the flower district today with one of my sisters to place an order for the flowers that would be at my father’s funeral. Sometimes I feel like he’s at home and I can imagine him sitting in the balcony, in his room, or at the dining table. Then it hits me that those times are now int he past. I like to think that if I go far enough out in space, I can use a really powerful telescope and be able to see my dad. Echoes of the past are the present elsewhere in the universe.

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