Friend
I remember standing with James near the Bab Zuela, the walled area in the old part of Cairo, talking about life and politics, our hopes and our youthful ambitions. I remember the smell of the half rotten, all beautiful city. I remember us at 21 years old and full of ourselves. I remember that he got it all right. All of it, the social and economic changes, and the wars to come. I remember well, how he spoke to our taxi driver and found out the man used to get shot out of a canon in the circus. This was James, that extra thing that made life interesting and valuable. He is missed.
I remember standing with James near the Bab Zuela, the walled area in the old part of Cairo, talking about life and politics, our hopes and our youthful ambitions. I remember the smell of the half rotten, all beautiful city. I remember us at 21 years old and full of ourselves. I remember that he got it all right. All of it, the social and economic changes, and the wars to come. I remember well, how he spoke to our taxi driver and found out the man used to get shot out of a canon in the circus. This was James, that extra thing that made life interesting and valuable. He is missed.
Whether it was his volumes of incredible music. Albums like Pazant Brothers playing at MoMA in the mid-1970s with a heavy funk and blues. Still playing with real feeling, the feeling of lives lived hard but even in that sorrow, joy, connection, and meaning. Or whether it was cooking a meal for our round table of (un)savory characters, the crazy intellectual talk, the out there-out there stuff. Or even if it was just the love of CAT. These things that can never be replaced. That is what James was, irreplaceable. He is missed.
He brought depth and character to my life and I will never be able to thank him enough. Never have I known a more serious, giving, and intelligent person. Never will I know such warmth and kindness. He will always be a brother to me. He is missed.
Photos by Carl Derrick
Photos by Carl Derrick
No comments:
Post a Comment