The post drops with a papery sigh. One envelope is addressed in a hand I half-remember; the capital G swings like a gate. I make tea and wait before opening it, listening to the small weather of the house.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
The post drops with a papery sigh. One envelope is addressed in a hand I half-remember; the capital G swings like a gate. I make tea and wait before opening it, listening to the small weather of the house.