Bathing in the light of clear mid winter dusk sky
In the house/ with the lights out
Buildings and their ethos falls away
What floods the city
A walk with foxes, crows and magpies.
Fritz and me talk about the American Indian Movement. Start of performance play an old tape from Brycey 20 years ago of John Trudell’s Tribal Voice. I find it hard to do all the thoughts/ ideas/ sensations/ concerns of his words (and my memories and frailties) justice in our (new, in creation) music after wards. But I try. Two different pulses … overlap. Thanks Fritz. Much to get on with.
Jenny Soep. Draws. From memory. Talks of memories. I climb inside.
Thanks Stevie. Been too long. Esme crawling. Harmonics. Head full of it all. With thanks.