The Power of Drawings

i keep telling you i encounter interesting people and fascinating stories on the streets of the neighborhood and cheers at bars...last night...a very tall dark guy i have been observing walking around...always in a black trousers, sunday shoes and bright colored shirts with a tie. yesterday the shirt was coral peach, but usually i remember a yellow. anyway he knew the older lady, a hadco sales exec i was liming with, and he comes over , greets her like an old aunty, and begins to seek approval for the way he dresses..and it appears it is a concerted effort, one as she tells him to earn respect from others, but two, i heard is because he regularly appears in court before magistrates. cases. so he begins to regale us of his times on frederick street...'the hyatt' as both of them describe it but talking about the jail. and he says how that place need to bun down it is so horrific inside there. and how he doing everything to not return there...but here hear this story:

on one of his stays- he was told of this...there was a foreigner inmate in a cell. he drew a ship on the wall. and told his co-inmates that he is out of there, who coming? he told them tomorrow 1pm the ship sailing.. so a few of them were down for the run but most of them felt he was on shit . as he tells this the listener believes they are hearing about a planned daring escape...but by the time for the lift off, no other inmate rolls with the guy. but close to the time he sits down in front the wall of the drawing and begins to rock as if he is on a ship. and then the story jumps to next morning...the listener again presumes that everyone went to sleep leaving this prisoner rocking...in any case, the next morning, all awake to find him gone, vanished, no where to be found...a few days later, they hear of a person found drowned on the shores of Haiti. the inmate was haitian. he was doing voudou (i said magick). he needed the other prisoners to come with him on the journey for sacrifice. they were not forthcoming, his magick was successful but not to keep him alive. the agent himself became the reward and sacrifice for the accomplishment. we were all spellbound listening. I was tickled to have heard that story. to hear how everyday voudoun is for a few, some.  to hear how the shit works, must work.  and even as I write the account I am thinking how careful it is to know who you are around, with and who you choose to go with...unawares you might be the soul on the platter for the portal and agents working and roaming. brotherman closes the story by telling us since that happening frederick street jail administrators and inmates do not use that cell for any reason, putting no inmates in there at all. I wonder how accurate this story from the administrators' purview and i would have loved to hear the same story by other inmates as well.

there is a whole life and existence beyond the seen, that is bigger and more powerful that what is. seen. The Invisible. and from my own story, and I cited the term last night to the same elder lady when I was telling her i have been unemployed for the past five years, The UnImaginable!