.goodbye, Jerome David Salinger.

You wrote about people who came down from book pages, sat close to the reader and never ever left alone anyone who ever took your books in his hands henceforth.
You wrote, and teenagers of all the world spoke with phrases that escaped from the tip of your pen.
You wrote about those who are like me. Like all of us.

You know, I’ve never met a single person out of your readers who never caught themselves thinking “oh, I’m thinking like Holden now”. Everyone, all of us had our own green inks, baseball mitts, red hunting hats or forty one blocks down the street.

Allie, don’t let me disappear.
Allie, don’t let me disappear.
Please, Allie.

And Franny often comes for a cup of tea in my dreams. We talk about everything in the world and all. She’s very nice, you were right, maybe a little strange, but…

Today the lake at the Central park got all frozen over and the ducks had flown away. Tomorrow someone will definitely ponder on where they are and ask strangers about it. But it will be tomorrow.

Today – farewell, Master.

Rest in peace.


~ by Anna on January 28, 2010.

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