Here is a snowy, slippery, spiral fire escape.
I read Slaughterhouse 5 while I was giving plasma today. I got to the part that said:
Billy answered. There was a drunk on the other end. Billy could almost smell his breath - mustard gas and roses. It was a wrong number. Billy hung up.
That whole answering a wrong number thing, reminded me of a story an old lover told me about his parents. His mother met his father when she answered a party line back in the day. He originally called for someone else, but quickly forgot about her after talking to his mom. She was a beautiful Swedish woman who had had many suitors at the time. His dad was a short Chinese man studying engineering.
My ex said that his mother chose his father over all the other men because she knew exactly how her life would pan out with the other men, but had no idea where she would end up with his dad.
After many moves and degrees and advanced degrees and a marriage and two children who she loved and fretted over, a divorce after she found her husband having an affair with their close friend's daughter, starting a gallery with money from said divorce and ultimately retiring to Mexico; I would love to ask her if the gamble on the unknown had been worth it to her. Of course, we all know that the "safe" choices that she rejected in those other men, could have turned into something completely different than she imagined too. I doubt there are any really safe major life choices out there. Shit comes at us out of nowhere and all we can do is brace ourselves and wait for it to hit or be aggressive and meet that shit head-on. So it goes.