I am back where it all started: in the community house where the piano still collects dust behind the curtain. Things are weird; a shooting star as big as my fist and the first swallow of spring, swallowed by a brick wall…
I am back where it all started: in the community house where the piano still collects dust behind the curtain. Things are weird; a shooting star as big as my fist and the first swallow of spring, swallowed by a brick wall…