“What is this? This impropriety? Here I am, the boulder barricading artistic flow just beginning to give when this, this! This commotion that tickles my very underarms, drains my strength and all ideas go up in puffs of smoke!”
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Treble Clef
“I was assailed by memories of a life that wasn’t mine anymore, but one in which I’d found the simplest and most lasting joys…” – Albert Camus [The Outsider, 1942]
A Poem – The Composer
The Composer grows weary.
But fret not, my deary!
For in his dreams and slumbers
Come his greatest scores and numbers…
