Reflections

Reflection #1: Last Night I Dreamt I Went to Ronda

Sometimes the story is not important, only an image, and some random graffiti, and the happenstance of being in a certain place and time, stumbling across the echoes of others, a thread of connection, wispy, vague, hinting and nudging…

 

19 replies »

  1. In the hills just east of Healdsburg. You can see all the way to the fog. Taste the mimosa in a Viognier, the roses in a chardonnay. Cabs so fat they’re a meal. I get it. But. You asked for this one –

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  2. Be a lot more believable if any of that gear was plugged in and you could actually sing that far off axis and sound that good.\. I always wondered what they did in the TV studio while they faked it and smacked the drums.

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