This is written by a friend.
I liked it and thought that i would post it to share.
Many years later,
the man telling you this story
was out walking on a cold winter night, thinking:
I just have to close my eyes to go back through in life and
now I am beginning to see that little boy again.
I may be a strange man, but if there is at least
another strange person like me
in every town and city of the world,
then there are a lot of strange people on this earth.
This was a paradox of life that made everybody
strange in some way and every normal person
strange in another way.
When he returned home he found a note at his desk:
The meaning of music, of art, of entertainment
is to stop the time.... just for awhile,
so we all can go on living our own lives.
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