So here I lie, my head feels twice its size, I’m lacklustre and swooney from antibiotics and other medications. My ambition is totally on hiatus. And my surroundings are feeling surreal at the moment. I’m watching “Sorry, Wrong Number”, a great film noir classic from 1948. The leading lady, bedridden Barbara Stanwyck, is desperately trying to phone for help, unable to escape her doom – the murderous death which surely awaits her. She hears a train approaching closeby. It will pass by her New York apartment and is now only seconds away. The train’s shrill and blaring whistle will keep her screams from being heard! You just know this isn’t going to end well for her. I look out my window and see a train gliding on its tracks southward along the river, its whistle alerting all creatures of its approach. Thankfully, I’m not in Barbara Stanywyck’s “shoes”. I’m ensconced in my comfortable, sun filled abode sinking in a cushy bed with fluffy pillows and two purring cats. If I have to be sick, this is pretty darn good!
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One-Of-A-Kind Art Jewelry and Wearable Art
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