Do you remember what winter said? How the windows seemed to worry when we grew too silent? How each evening took our shapes from us and how mornings restored everything? Our lives seemed like a dream then. If you cannot recall, just remember this: if i ever find my way back into your eyes, i will be careful not to wake you so i do not disappear again.
In which a long-time record collector and sometimes poet shares shares vinyl finds, words of worth, and plays keep or cull.
