old photos and the end of it all

i was browsing through some of my old photos online the other day and came across this. it's actually taken just over a year ago.

i wrote about paul a couple of weeks ago. i was on jones beach when i got a text that he'd had a heart attack. at the age of 23.

that's paul, see, the one in the foreground with the pink shirt. it was at Adam's bday last year, at Cafe Kick in Shoreditch (London). they're all Oxford University boys, you have to forgive them the shirts.

oh god, this creeps me out even more. it was taken exactly a year before paul died. i got the text on adam's birthday this year.

but - photos, by their nature, are both ephemeral and everlasting, because they capture a moment that can never happen again. and i was just staring at this photo, thinking "you'll never play foosball again. you'll never share a pint with your friends again. they'll never be able to share one with you."

his body still hasn't been "released" (doesn't that sound horrible) - i guess authorities wanted to make sure there wasn't any foul play or whatever. but - how can someone go from so - fuck.

i don't understand death. it's not even like he was in my close circle of peeps. my heart goes out to his friends and family.

it's just something i can't really get my head around. death, i mean. the end of it all. i suppose we're not really meant to.

- -

the crazy girl who sits next to me has been averaging about two slices of carrot cake a day so far this week.

okay, my attempt at upbeat didn't work. it probably came out more heartless. it's okay. i'll just stick with my current contemplative frame of mind whilst i compile contributors lists and head over in the rain to chelsea whole foods.

tell the good people in your life they mean something to you, kids.