Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. “It isn’t only the dance,” she said. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. As he balanced the photograph, a humorous twinkle came into his eyes. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 28-06-2024 01:34:48
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