A few days ago, when the weather was KIND and pleasant, on my way to go to work, I looked from the bus window at sharp yellow, red and fuschia mums flowers in baskets, arranged on the sidewalks, under dazzling bright Chicago sun.
Zealous and in awe of beauty of the moment, I felt an ecstatic near death experience… I yearned eagerly for the last embrace…and the warmth of touching hands… Like Joan of Arc going through fire, I tenderly whispered “I’m tired of the war”…I'm tired of...
Joan of Arc is interrogated by the Cardinal of Winchester in her prison (1824) by Paul Delaroche (1797-1856)
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