And she looked up at the sky, and because of the broken window, there was just a little bit of rain falling on her face. And it was lovely.
The last few sensations she'd feel.
Knowing that you are bleeding out is a funny thing, suddenly you begin to feel EVERYTHING. You notice the feel of your tongue against the inside of your mouth. Your fingers. The bits of you that have been severed, those things that tell you how much you will miss having everything connected. And the feel of the little bit of rain on your cheek.
Stare into space, into the space above you, where normally you can see stars. Or blue sky. Warm days filled with sunshine. Looking at him across the stage at that folk festival as the sun set over the mountain. His smile, your smile.
That night in the motel room, when you asked him to just play, dammit, play. L had just cs'ed, you were inconsolable. But he was there, a deeper friend than you ever knew. His guitar. His voice, his deep baritone. Just a little bit of rain.
The camera cranes from a deep close up of your face-spinning slightly maybe. raising into the dark night. Dammit, it WAS a Hollywood movie all along. You can feel the warmth of the sun on your arms, getting into bed with him. a giant warm hug, like getting into a tub. A feeling of Warm Days Filled with Sunshine. And him. The last moments of conscious thought are of warmth, and of him.
Just a Little Bit of Rain by Fred Neil
https://youtu.be/G89Qxv2LO0s
The last few sensations she'd feel.
Knowing that you are bleeding out is a funny thing, suddenly you begin to feel EVERYTHING. You notice the feel of your tongue against the inside of your mouth. Your fingers. The bits of you that have been severed, those things that tell you how much you will miss having everything connected. And the feel of the little bit of rain on your cheek.
Stare into space, into the space above you, where normally you can see stars. Or blue sky. Warm days filled with sunshine. Looking at him across the stage at that folk festival as the sun set over the mountain. His smile, your smile.
That night in the motel room, when you asked him to just play, dammit, play. L had just cs'ed, you were inconsolable. But he was there, a deeper friend than you ever knew. His guitar. His voice, his deep baritone. Just a little bit of rain.
The camera cranes from a deep close up of your face-spinning slightly maybe. raising into the dark night. Dammit, it WAS a Hollywood movie all along. You can feel the warmth of the sun on your arms, getting into bed with him. a giant warm hug, like getting into a tub. A feeling of Warm Days Filled with Sunshine. And him. The last moments of conscious thought are of warmth, and of him.
Just a Little Bit of Rain by Fred Neil
https://youtu.be/G89Qxv2LO0s
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