’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. . This was what he missed. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. ” “That’s rather the theory now,” said Ann Veronica.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 23:09:24