Xstabeth, page 12
The old man on the bench at the seaside resort. He has taken the passing of the beautiful bodies of his youth with grace. The way you accept a summer shower. He sits there in the shower and he feels the rain fall. From his vantage point above the beach he can see the rain come in. And he can see where it will end. He watches a beautiful young girl untie her loose dress and reveal a white one-piece swimming costume. At one point the sight of a beautiful girl in a swimming costume would have sent uncontrollable feelings of love and longing through his body. Now grace has intervened. Not for me. He thinks. The complications of other bodies. The overstuffed handbags held gracefully halfway up the arm. The words of the floppy summer hat and oversized sunglasses are now muted. They appear as distant birds. He calls her by her name. Grace. He recalls her sisters. Isrobing & Islence. He takes out a pen and a piece of paper. There it is: &
David Keenan, Xstabeth
