We build a fortress where light cotton lines the windows diffusing and recreating light until it is only a faint glow.
I lay down at an angle that neglects to show me the guitar he is playing, and instead I watch his face remain unchanged. Bounds of timed precision and melody unfold on permanent recall from years of repetition but his face remains unchanged.
It is nothing and everything and I am facinated with his effortlessness.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
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