was a nice guy, quiet, yes, but good friend to his friends, a free spirit who journeyed through life with a melancholy and depressing. Not surprisingly, life was never easy. His mother was a lean woman of very weak heart which affected over time in a special way, the body corresponded to the passage of each year hanging over wrinkles and infirmities of decades as a kind of portrait of Dorian Gray that he experienced in meat the effects of drunkenness and quarrels with her husband, an alcoholic sailor looking sullen and deep voice with a very bad drink. She died suddenly and he, his skin tanned by the North Sea air and preserved in alcohol inside shortly after.
The last time I saw him sitting at the entrance of a cafe having coffee with a friend. I remember we crossed greetings and asked me if I had learned of the death of his uncle. I answered affirmatively. A wreck at the entrance of the harbor in a small town is always guaranteed the headline in the local press. Pushed by a gale to the reef, his uncle, the only family he had left in the world since their parents died, drowned in the same waters that had been fed throughout their lives.
Months later, with very little lead time between the two events I learned that he had an ax stuck in the door of the bar which was underneath the house because the loud music would not let him sleep, days later an overdose pad again to bring the whole family. When I knew I understood that the last time we had done with a spirit, he was already dead at that cafe, he had died along with his uncle in that wreck.
The last time I saw him sitting at the entrance of a cafe having coffee with a friend. I remember we crossed greetings and asked me if I had learned of the death of his uncle. I answered affirmatively. A wreck at the entrance of the harbor in a small town is always guaranteed the headline in the local press. Pushed by a gale to the reef, his uncle, the only family he had left in the world since their parents died, drowned in the same waters that had been fed throughout their lives.
Months later, with very little lead time between the two events I learned that he had an ax stuck in the door of the bar which was underneath the house because the loud music would not let him sleep, days later an overdose pad again to bring the whole family. When I knew I understood that the last time we had done with a spirit, he was already dead at that cafe, he had died along with his uncle in that wreck.
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