one by one they lay the world at my feet,
one by one they drive me crazy.
one by one they drive me crazy.
Time is different when you're playing music. You hear someone call to you, and even though you know it's Finn, you don't stop right away. Like having a bite of spaghetti nearly all the way to your mouth as someone asks you a question, it's no surprise that you take the bite, chew, and then reply. So it is that you feel compelled to finish the musical-phrase that you're on, before you let your fingers slow. The warm resonance of the strings hangs heavily in the air, the harmonics like some latent flash of brightness that sparkles above.
Turning toward the door, you flash an immediate smile to the man who lingers there like a ghost. Picking up your tea and blowing on it (not necessary, its gone cold now), your fingertips still stroke the keys that they rest upon as if reassuring the piano you haven't forgotten her. "Nice to see you out and about." You think there's some quip to be made about you having seen the inside of Finn's apartments and wondering if that's why he's here now, to repay you for that, but you think better of it. "How are you feeling?"
Turning toward the door, you flash an immediate smile to the man who lingers there like a ghost. Picking up your tea and blowing on it (not necessary, its gone cold now), your fingertips still stroke the keys that they rest upon as if reassuring the piano you haven't forgotten her. "Nice to see you out and about." You think there's some quip to be made about you having seen the inside of Finn's apartments and wondering if that's why he's here now, to repay you for that, but you think better of it. "How are you feeling?"
October
