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When I walk in the mornings, I catch the bus at a train station. I am walking east and over a slight rolling in the sprawling sleepy small town and at times it seems that I am the only one awake in the world, and that I am indeed walking into the sun. I let music propel me through my walk. And at the train station I propel my voice up and out and over the rafters. It is a tiny little house, this train station... and it is always just me. And I sing for the walls and the rooftop and to startle the birds just outside and my songs always bounce back to me. Rounded, softened. Almost as if I am sending my voice out as a girl and she comes back to me a cultured lady. Sometimes I try and sing harmony on top of the echoes... but mostly, I forget that I am the one that creates them, and I just stop and listen. And even that silence is beautiful Hello!
. How Rude! - Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 - 12:16 PM One small step but no giant leap. - Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 - 11:17 AM Where's George? - Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 - 12:48 PM |
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a Nifty design 
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