Carlo...
The joy of spring.... about to abdicate to the pathos of an ominous, unwelcome winter darkness, as another life is threatened to be torn from a purposeful journey, a life with which we identify -as if our own - in perfect sympathy.
To friends and family we owe the experience of love, honor and tenderness, comforting embraces, uplifting words to serve us into eternity.
We are not from here, nor from there; we have no promise of a perfect past or of a rosy future, we merely select the colors with the brush pressed into our hands at birth.
Yet, as long as there is life, there is hope; if there is hope, there must be life. At the hands of the Master painter, the firmament sketches scenes not yet revealed; miracles happen...... ask Lance Armstrong!
Pokie and Shiftless