Coin Flip

It's dark. There's one light on in the room, and the shadows are spreading out around the furniture, like fingers trying to escape the concrete coffin The room itself is warm, but the people are the prison, holding him down like shackles. He wants to fly, fly away, fly like an eagle, let my spirit carry me. He sits motionless as things begin to transform. The people turn from gray walls into great murals, millions of colors telling stories. They are laughing, crying, living, dying, and just being what they are. They may be small and insignificant, like grains of sand, but the transformation is subtle and important; the difference between a beach in New England in winter, and one in sunny Jamaica. He has seen both sides of the coin, black and white, yin and yang. And he knows which side he likes.