Sharing a Memory

At times we are moved to tell again the stories that come from seemingly random places. I speak of those who pass by, share their tale, and move along. It's something in the air, a true emotion emitted that lingers. It may paint an image, or it might altogether represent an entire existence, a living memory.
This was my experience with a small question about a tattoo, and the life of Galbi. In Hebrew on the wrist of his partner of 25 years, Galbi still lives. Thus came my introduction to Ofra Haza. So here's she is in her arab pop glamour and glitz.

A whole different life story was shared with me, that of this pop princess who died quite young. She was a mezzo-soprano, wow. She was an Israeli born pop singer inspired by her Yemeni Jewish culture. She somewhat musically bridged Arab and Jewish culture and had much success in her time. She quietly passed away of AIDS related pneumonia at the age of 42 and only after her death did her HIV status become known. She was a beloved artist and shocked a culture in mourning with this news.
I can only come to this conclusion in speculation, but when this man with the 'Galbi' tattoo on his wrist told me this story, I feel like this may be the bond that was shared. Himself and his partner adored Ofra Haza. His partner loved the song Galbi so much that it affectionately became his nickname. The man quietly told me that with this tattoo he lives on. I promised to look into it a little more to give proper life to the memory.
I found that Galbi translates to My Love, how well suited for the story.
Cheers to your memory Galbi and to you as well Ofra Haza. Such is the seemingly coincidental flow of energy.