One word is better than ten words.
Is all I have to say this week.
Sitting at an open window, feeling the wet breezes of Hanna roll over me. These breezes feel like Florida. I walked home in the rain last night, and could have walked to your place for how nice it felt.
I do not necessarily know where “your place” is nor am I headed there at this or any moment.
Peoples tell me I look tired tonight. I played piano for hours on the live web streaming thingy. The conversation was primo. Someone stomped in and demanded I play Lizst (sic) or die! I played “Sospiro” but the requestor was already gone. Damn! Someone requested Beethoven’s “Moonlight” but didn’t expect I’d play the last movement. Someone requested a Chopin Nocturne, I found my tattered Paderewski edition of the Nocturnes, purchased in Warsaw by my mother in 1961, and TORE IT UP.
Sitting at a comfortable place, feeling OK. Feeling fine.
