From the Indian summer with its somber odors tumbles melancholic memories of autumns past.
Weekend notes: to observe, analyze and document events witnessed.
Gowns show @ RML 9/9/2006
We filed into the solemn affair, the only light, projected candles on three screens.
Initially out of a forlorn calling violin, a voice, without boundaries, disintegrates as it hits air. Among screaming erupted the swell. If you blinked, you might miss the whole note being stuck. The hushed extravagance, impressions left, felt teeth dent insides lips. I chewed my bottom lip until it bled. The light reflected off her guitar and struck my face The oscillation disappeared, then my eyes downcast to white shoes. Her voice beckoned me past 6 feet low, "calling, calling" crawling past 6 feet below.
