The Hot Note Starving To Death

We are happiest when we are playing music, when we are making it, when we are straddling music like a motorcycle.

We are not young and these days time is not abundant. No time for straddling. We absorb it like a ravenous prisoner, crumbs of music attacked. We are malnourished without it.

As always, by we I mean I.

From the ashes, like an eerie silent battlefield,


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