Memory: a poem of the five senses

Burnt cinnamon and candle wax, the surface of sandpaper and a tack, a bitter hint of lemon peel chased with a water back. The tinkle of a shattered glass, the supple strength of silk, an echo of a footstep and a hint of soured milk. A new bouquet of flowers, the barking of a hound, […]

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Letters to a Young Picker

or Free Your Mind and Your Chops Will Follow: EVERYTHING is a matter of personal taste. Nobody gets “great ears” without playing badly with their betters (betters who are willing to accept a lot of bad notes, ideas or tangents as the price to be paid for developing new talent). If somebody sells a lot […]

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