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no words

make you feel my love

E does not want to sing any more. I wonder if this is a case of becoming her own worst enemy, a trait she might have inherited from me. We do try a few songs at the kitchen table, but her heart is not in it. She would rather play piano, but she refuses to do anything in time so it is very hard to play together. She is simply on her own course. I decide to step out of the way, and let things unfold. My regret has been noted, and I sit down to sing all by myself this time, while she watches one of her tv shows in the next room, curled on her bed.

Later, she agrees to stand in the cold showing some words on cards. I show her the original Dylan clip. She nods, as if she knew about it already, a piece of old news.








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