They say the masseuse found him. Pushed her way into his bedroom and discovered him naked on the floor. Dead.
And I imagine Death too, as a kind of masseuse. Her hands not cold, as he had feared, but warm, instinctive, almost sensual.
Practiced fingers untangle the pathways of his body; release him, at last from pain's invisible net. Unknotted, undone, he surrenders gratefully to her touch, feels his muscles loosen, slips, unknowingly, into a deep, deep sleep.
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6 comments:
Beautiful!
-Anusha
This was such a shock. Not that I've ever been a huge fan or something, but he's always had such a clean image, you know? You don't mentally list him as one who is likely to suddenly pop off.
Dude, have you been reading Chandler? This post would make a nice voiceover intro to a noir film.
great imagery. morbid - but true.....
Anusha: Thanks
sue: Ya, it took a while to sink in. I don't know that I would call myself a fan - given that all I've seen of his work is Brokeback and I'm Not There, but I thought he was incredible in the former and quite good in the latter. Plus, well, he was so good-looking.
km: No, at least not for a while. But I have been watching Preminger.
harini: Thanks
Whatte Euphemism..!
Reminds me of another one, again on death, though not as well disguised as yours.
Fom the movie Patch Adams,
"Death. To die. To expire. To pass on. To perish. To peg out. To push up daisies. To push up posies. To become extinct. Curtains, deceased, Demised, departed And defunct. Dead as a doornail. Dead as a herring. Dead as a mutton. Dead as nits. The last breath. Paying a debt to nature. The big sleep. God's way of saying, "Slow down." "
(My memory ain't so good, so to quote the exact words here, I referred www.imdb.com)
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