There are endless riffs on how to live when you find your days repeating to the same drum, be it nine to five or seven to eleven. Rightly so, I find my days changing with one riff to another, as the melody is sweetening and the hats are sharpening, the tune builds toward some saintly crescendo. We’re jamming.
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Published by Fictional Man
No single work did more to question the conventions than what you now read. Welcome to my world. View all posts by Fictional Man