Sublime

The music interprets him. That shadowy voice and those unamplified guitars set a contour around his body and he becomes legible again to himself.

phallocentric

The last class of my old professor’s life took place once a week, in his home, by a window in his study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink flowers. The class met on Tuesdays. No books were required. The subject was the meaning of life. It was taught from experience. The teaching goes on.

And where there is room for interpretation, there is always room for political persuasion.

Mephistopheles,”

“I don’t know, I guess I imagine myself wandering in a deep wood. I’m all alone and it’s cold and dark, and nobody comes to save me. That’s why Reiko never plays it unless I request it.” “Sounds like Casablanca!” Reiko said with a laugh.