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icarusA real African band is playing and singing in the park at sunset, while little kids in white karate outfits practice tumbling moves on a swath of darkening green.
Grey-blue clouds stripe an orange sky as the infectious primal rhythm seeps into the blood and sends one to bouncing. Shoulders sway behind the computer, keyboard tapping a syncopated counterpoint. The voices call and answer in a song that's half-chant, half night-bird trill.
I have much to do and say but the music, she steals my mind away.
I think this is a good thing.
Grey-blue clouds stripe an orange sky as the infectious primal rhythm seeps into the blood and sends one to bouncing. Shoulders sway behind the computer, keyboard tapping a syncopated counterpoint. The voices call and answer in a song that's half-chant, half night-bird trill.
I have much to do and say but the music, she steals my mind away.
I think this is a good thing.
