Walking in from a dream

Living in London in the 80's, working in hair and make-up, living with Kimi, whose ex had written The Rocky Horror Show. Pictures of her with all the amazing people she has known, including David, plastered our living room.
I spent much of my free time walking in Green Park, listening to Low, Hunky Dory and Heroes. That music instantly fills my dull, grey memories with the most gorgeous colors.
Vale, David Bowie! Bringer of New Colors, I salute you. Thank you, the Ever Generous, for shattering into the stardust that now, actually, fills our eyes, that we can all see as beautifully as you do (and you do still do, I know). We see differently because you were here. What felt like a shattered hollow, (empty hole, edges crumbling, dissolving) on the day you left has filled up again, rich with a new me, made shiny by your generous donation of Bowie Soul. Vale, and well met.

The word beyond sad, that I do not know, is what I feel when I think that DRJ was forced to leave his beautiful family ahead of time (at least by our reckoning). I ache for you, his family. Praying earnestly that this outpouring of love and grief is a comfort and not a bother. The gratitude I feel for all he that gave me, a total stranger, I give to you in your loss. May it become a balm for your hearts. Much love.

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