Tonight in search of joy and brotherhood, we set about having a sad parade. Because we are each broken hearted, and aching inside, yet also vibrant, loved, talented and successful, we put plastic whistles with flashing rainbow diodes on them and marched slowly down the street blowing our low, lonesome whistles.

When we arrived at the cafe, the woman behind the counter asked what we were doing. I explained that we were having a sad parade. Naturally she wanted to know what a sad parade was. Why were we sad? I smiled and said that was a complicated question, and said there were many reason to be sad, and many ways to interpret a sad parade. She asked me to promise that I would invite her to the next one. I agreed, and said that I would.

By the time we were sipping our espresso outside on the benches each one of us was smiling, our radiant eyes brightly awake, our clear, pink and green whistles dangling around our necks flashing, and the conversation turned to more compassionate things.