Billy sang for the fifth time to Joseph, practig the song to him. Joseph merely closed his eyes, captivated from the moment he was moved. Their retionship improved, like a paper barrier shattered by the raindrops' breath, now resembling almost friends. Billy even sang a bit of "What a Wonderful World” leaving the old man speechless, sensing a certain aura of esteem in Billy, an illumination of his long age. It wasn't about the years; it was about the wisdom.

  -So, I was with my friend Paul, graffitiing the walls with a beautiful drawing, and suddenly the police showed up. Paul is a bck kid, you know. This cop grabs him by the ned throws him to the ground like a doll. I saw red; my only impulse was to jump on the cop's back to prevent him from attag Paul. He reacted like a lunatid started screaming. When his partner arrived, they arrested us. In my helplessness, all I could do it in his face. The taste of blood and phlegm nded on his face. I think it was my smile, or perhaps my rebellion, that marked my st three months. Twin Towers Correal Facility is a cesspool s and gangs, - said Billy.

  -Hahaha, kid, you're a real punk. In my day, they would've pulled your pants down aen you with a metal rod until you came to your sehe smart ones uht away, but some, even after maings, remained punks, - said Joseph.

  -Mr. Joseph, I say that my experiences are part of my growth, and now with my back against the wall, I 't see it as a big problem. Some things just fall into pce with time. I hope I'm n, - said Billy, happily. Only a good moment remained from that event.

  -That doesn't take away your punk spirit, - said Joseph.

  -Maybe that's true. Tomorrow I'll be discharged, - mentioned Billy from the bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The six days in the hospital were like an oasis, a oint in a gra. The lunchtime chats with his mother and the lived tranquility were like a dream pared to the correal facility.

  -Ah, what a pity. We've had some pleasant afternoons. I'll miss your mother's cooking; she's a woman with incredible seasoning. Of course, at first, I thought my roommate would be a brat, - said Joseph, in his sarcastic way of rejeg people. But for some reason, these events hadn't happeirely with the Carson family.

  -Mama always knows how to ent people with food, - said Billy, resting. Tomorrow m he would be escorted, and he felt suspiciously like a criminal, being treated so strictly.

  The dark glow of the moon illumihe clear and precise night like a faint ntern. A small mp on Joseph's bedside table fed the room. Billy hummed the song "Like a Stone" softly, reg lyrics that tangled a depth that still gave him an uanding of life ah. Every time he judged a lyric esoterically, he began to think about it from different angles.

  -What do you feel when you listen to the song? - Billy asked.

  Joseph had golden gsses and, like Billy, was mostly silent, lost in his thoughts. He only read the m neer with unpreted calm, taking the rest of the day as a break and going for a walk after lunch, with siderable effort.

  -My current life, sitting in a hospital waiting for my st days. Although there were moments when I thought it would be the end, I'm still alive and kig. But now I find myself at the crossroads of my life, and the wait be exhausting for someone who doesn't know what might happen tomorrow. Even when you're young, you're not thinking about death. It's when you're old that you uand the end is very near, - said Joseph.

  -Thank you, old Joseph. It's almost like a stab to my heart. Hearing your words has given me something to think about. I hope the demo I'll make be sent to the record bels. It must be a massive success. I feel this drive to succeed like never before, - said Billy.

  To improve his life, and that of his mother, and live in peace. What will be the price of his fame? What will happen in the ing years, what is real, and what is unreal? The violent expnation still traces circles in Billy's mind, what is music for, and urpose does it serve? Who are the best artists?

  -We all have ambitions, kid. Work on that. Even if you have little, that bite is enough, little Billy. Many with such ambitions achieved what they wanted. I know some who, after twenty years, fulfilled their desires. As a peasant born, my goals weren't high; I dreamed of a nice house aing pizza every day, - said Joseph.

  -How memorable, Joseph. Did you buy the house? - asked Billy.

  -We bought it, with effort. Now I own a wo-story thing. In its time, five little ones were running up and down like s toads. The you had a lovely granddaughter st winter, and it's a did joy to see my family on Christmas Eve. I would like another Christmas like the st one, - said Joseph.

  -Now I'm the envious old Joseph, -

  I don’t know if I was dreaming,

  I don’t know if I was sleeping,

  And the voice of an angel

  Said to tell you:

  Celebrate life.

  Think freely,

  Help everyone,

  And for what you want

  Fight aient.

  Carry a light load!

  Don’t hold on to anything

  Because in this world

  Nothing is forever.

  Look for a star!

  To be yuide,

  Hurt no one!

  Spread joy.[1]

  -Anood song, - said Joseph, listening to Billy's chorus, recited with such melodious prose that again, ihan a week, his heart swelled with joy. The enduring story of Joseph, who died a week ter; his sohe diary, and his brothers shared Joseph's st moments by a Christmas firepce.

  Joseph Glenf's Diary

  Elvis Presley is reborn to tinue fessing religiously what the mouths of eion have kept silent. Now he's a battered and stunted boy, but the more I see him, the md I am to have known him. When you hear the storm roar, you'll know what I feel right now. As if the stars were stirring in the sky, like floating nebus spreading strength behind them. Now I'd like to live ten more years ao know this boy who, in future days, women will cry to hear him sing, men will t his songs like the French t the Marseilise, and children will move their heads and bodies by the work of this boy who has the charisma of Elvis.

  -A memory, old man, - said Billy.

  The song is dedicated to finding inspiration in the beauty of life.

  [Axel – celebrate life, a new song delivered, this song touches a very painful moment of your life.]

  -Sing it again, kid, - said old Joseph excitedly, adjusting the bed to watch Billy's singing routine. Now without a neck brace, his performance was different; he could hit slightly higher notes, almost brushing that entingly soft hat resonated with the song. Even in such a onpd simple setting as a hospital room, the color ged into an unpreted tune of others' memories, almost as if the smoke from December campaigns in the coldest states or the day at the beach, the st of sun and sand.

  [1] Axel, celebrate life (a song that ot be fotten.)

  ...