Consider this your sign

I read this a couple of days ago when I began reading The Ballad of the Sad Cafe.  

The whisky they drank that evening (two big bottles of it) is important.  Otherwise, it would be hard to account for what followed.  Perhaps without it there would never have been a cafe.  For the liquor of Miss Amelia has a special quality of its own.  It is clean and sharp on the tongue, but once down a man it glows inside him for a long time afterward.  And that is not all.  It is known that if a message is written with lemon juice on a clean sheet of paper there will be no sign of it.  But if the paper is held for a moment to the fire then the letters turn brown and the meaning becomes clear.  Imagine that the whisky is the fire and that the message is that which is known only to the soul of a man-- then the worth of Miss Amelia's liquor can be understood.  Things that have gone unnoticed, thoughts that have been harbored far back in the dark mind, are suddenly recognized and comprehended.  A spinner who has thought only of the loom, the dinner pail, the bed, and then the loom again-- this spinner might drink some on a Sunday and come across a marsh lily.  And in his palm he might hold this flower, examining the golden dainty cup, and in him suddenly might come a sweetness keen as pain.  A weaver might look up suddenly and see for the first time the cold, weird radiance of midnight January sky, and a deep fright at his own smallness stop his heart.  Such things as these, then happen when a man has drunk Miss Amelia's liquor.  He may suffer, or he may be spent with joy-- but the experience has shown the truth; he has warmed his soul and seen the message hidden there.

Lightening strikes and everything becomes clear.  Have you ever felt that... the honesty of self-revelation?  Epiphany moments make things happen.  It made me think of the "Dear Anon..." post a week or so before.  Not sure why.  Maybe because it describes what I'm waiting for "a shot of Miss Amelia's whiskey."   

Just, Margaret