Nick Drake. The wonder of discovery of this lost soul for many of us in the late 90s. Ghostly and withdrawn he passes through like something remarkable outside your window you’re likely to miss.
I guess books remind us that one person’s experience could speak for thousands and we could share some intimacy with strangers, make the world a smaller place.
The most precious things we keep hold meaning for only us, and it’s those things we surround ourselves with as time takes all the rest.
Time moves with the same erratic force of those bleating jazz horns like locusts devouring anything in its path.
It is the best day of my life when I get a call from the editor asking me to report on a town meeting and submit a thousand words. Even though it’s just a weekly it’s my first time published, my name in print.