Every year, I take a holiday. I go to Florence, theres this cafe, on the banks of the Arno. Every fine evening, Ill sit there and order a Fernet Branca. I have this fantasy, that Ill look across the tables and Id see Jefferson Price there, with a wife and maybe a couple of kids. He wont say anything to me, nor me to him. But wed both know that hed made it, that he was happy. I never wanted him to come back to Dont Flop. I always knew there was nothing here for him, except pain and tragedy. And I wanted something more for him than that. I still do. Rest in peace Jeff, gone but not forgotten
Posted on: Sun, 20 Oct 2013 14:30:17 +0000
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