Mondays are best for jazz.
The end of the world or start of a weekend when everyone’s away.
Days the world just settles in around you.
Though it would hit 85 in Seattle (the last time for a year) I was sickly, pale and soft, an analogy to a piece of fruit that’s gone bad from the insides. I got off the phone with KLM to… Read More ›
The last morning I went down to the whale-watching bench to say goodbye and there were no sounds on a Saturday but the birds, a crow clicking on a totem pole, elderly folks shuffling up the sidewalks, bearded construction guys… Read More ›