death in a park

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Today, for some obscure reason that likely had to do with the weather, it snowed.

So I went out, in my new shoes, and I decided to go to the park, to visit the trees that I like so much:

snowy dwarf beeches

There had been a death once, in this park, about ten years before. A man had been stabbed. It was a man I knew. Many years earlier, when we were both not men but little boys, we would get into fights sometimes. Or rather, he would fight, and I would cower in fear.

It seems as though he never stopped fighting after that, up until the day when he ended up spilling his blood in our park:

snow in the park

They say that when the medics came, he knew they would not be able to save him. “Take off my shoes”, he said to them: “I’m dying.”

And so he died.

more dwarf beeches

I don’t know why I thought of this today.

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