I sit quietly, wearing my own mask, observing my own parade.
I am cloaked in my anticipation, knowing that life is floating something special
down the river to my side.
The surface and wait are sometimes hard; the view is sometimes lonely.
But we inevitably arrive at our own completion.
All the little, colored pieces land.
And the band plays on.
Written Content G.A.M. cc
Confetti Fall Carlo Dapino
