Early yet, aurora and after are just perfect. Nature gnaws nurture, pitiless, outside. A new Sunday is born. Va benissimo.
Stravinsky it was who insisted the composer is an insect who waits. So I´ll wait. For what ? Till after that Violin Concerto is premiered , eh ? That Cello Concerto? Those choral EIGHT HAIKUS? Or is it RHAPSODIC BOWING for 8 Celli that´s holding up the flow and trickle and wash? Now my sun is up. Sun-day.
A TEMPORARY LET UP IN THE KILLING HEAT BEFORE AUGUST JUST SQUELCHES US
Posted under: Humble Hamburg Musings