A golden angel. A little boy lost.
Yes, The Poster adorned my wall, and yes, I bought Thriller on vinyl all those years ago.
We are reminded once again of the fragility of our mortality, and of the necessity to stop and smell the roses, for we will not pass this way again (reincarnation notwithstanding).
I suspect that Farrah did stop and sample the roses' fragrances on occasion, but that Michael just paid someone to do it for him.
I don’t like roses, I’m not a “flower” guy. But I love to kayak, and metaphorically that’s pretty much the same thing.
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