“In the Asylum” / Memorable Fancies #2389

One has angels, here in this special place; has signs of having angels, having had angels, waiting for angels, symptoms of angels, trying to get rid of one’s angels.

My fellow patients here in the Asylum all have angels, I can tell. But mostly, they deny it, say they don’t believe me. After all, I couldn’t be a renowned angelologist if I’m locked up here in the Institution, could I be?

When I hint and hypothesize, some others have confidentially said to me yes, certainly there are angels, many more angels than people, a guardian angel at least, a lesser angel, one in training or demoted or some recent angelic immigrant given the job nobody else wants, to clean out my mind at the end of every day, recycle my ideas.

One fellow in a room down the hall says he has an entire chorus of angels. But those are not my angels, and besides, that guy is a nut.

cover pix for Happen fotolia_66533164

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