I Mourn the Demise of My Rainbow-colored Umbrella

In the spring of 2003, I was sitting alone in a bar, in a town where I knew no one. Whether the bartender saw my loneliness, I do not know. He did, however, see that it had started pouring with rain outside. ‘Do you want an umbrella?’ He asked.

“It’s just stuff. You shouldn’t get attached to stuff.” That’s what people always tell you when something breaks or get lost. But you…