Death

Death and Fire, painting on burlap by Paul Klee, 1940; in the Museum of Fine Arts, Bern, Switzerland

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I see him quite often now -- sometimes at a distance, sometimes close by. Sometimes around a corner, or up a stair. Always walking, taking his time -- in no hurry. He has all the time in the world. Today we met in a rainstorm, he had a friend with him and asked for change -- it’s just not time yet. Hooded, most of the time he wears a hood -- at those times and most of the time, I never see his face, but I know he sees mine. Suddenly, without warning, he drops his shroud, I see his face, he nods and smiles -- he has all the time in the world…

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