Do you ever worry about your friends? What? Me, too! I worry about their secret lives, the limited comfort they get from food, the noises they hear in empty passageways of big houses and companies built large enough to accommodate business that never materialized, and about preoccupations they can’t share with others.
I have so many examples.
I think of a friend who I suspect of having an affair. Does her husband know? If he knew, would he care?
I think of a dream with bread in a girl’s lap.
I think of Himmler’s edicts on eating more vegetables. See? Good things can come from bad people!
I think of waking up this morning with this song in my head:
“You can shine your shoes and wear a suit
You can comb your hair and look quite cute
You can hide your face behind a smile
One thing you can’t hide
Is when you’re crippled inside.”
Back to comfort food, right?
That friend: Why, I’d make her a big bowl of white beans from Italy, grilled fassano steak from Montana, and some good red wine. I’d say to her: Tell me everything!
But would she? Of course not.