Please Come To Boston in The Springtime....

The Purple Shamrock



To be anonymous in the city, walking on the crowded street alone, trying to absorb the beauty and the culture which is so different from where I live.  Friendly people, even at the toll booths...it was awesome, while it lasted.  But, back to reality it is for another day, week, month, year...do we know for how long?  No. No. NO.  If she still has a conscious, under all that anger and pain, regrets will fill her soul until there is no room for anything but...
I hope this is not the case.  I hope it is all resolved one day.  I hope she comes back to the one's that love her more than life itself.  I hope it won't be too late. 


 


Elie Wiesel Boston University
Judaic Studies
Elie Wiesel Foundation

 And then, I was looking for your face, on the street, in the museum, at the airport.  But you were no where to be seen...Boston was more than I could have ever imagined.  Lost, an angel lead me to the Boston University, the building for Judaic Studies for Elie Wiesel. It was purely an accident that I stumbled upon this beautiful place.  I had no idea this was here.  It was not on the list of sights to visit. I knew Elie was affiliated with Boston University.  But, how did I end up parked right in front of this building.  Was it coincidence?  Was it luck?  Was it fate?  Suddenly, I felt the connection that has eluded me, especially in the past few months.  I knew that I missed your presence in my life.  It was at that moment I became totally aware that you would always be a part of my life; a part of who I have become.  You traveled with me through the desert of my soul.  I am grateful to have had you in my life.  We shared very much over the years.  And, finally I got to experience in person some of the most cherished memories of the time we spent in each others life.




The Home of Samuel Bak
Pucker Gallery, Boston Massachusetts 

 Seeing his paintings in real life was one of the most awesome experiences I had on this trip.  Looking through his books pales in comparison to the actual paintings.  I could see the pain.  I could feel the pain swelling up in my soul; the similarities of experience; the sorrow in the eyes; and the eyes that could not see;  The broken trees; disconnection; smoke; broken dreams; broken promises--The Landscape where there is no language except the tears of the soul.  A landscape of which I am familiar.

This was near the end of my journey.
This was near the end. 
This was near.
This was. 
This.