![]() ![]() We navigated across it like pour pirates with little heart for seizing any booty. My house was like a sea of greenish waters never subject to great wraths. If I stopped running, I might get used to this unhappiness that contained a small amount of happiness, and never emerge from it. Some seem to protest the selection the intellect claims to make among them.Ĭhildhood and poverty… Music and despondency… Memories of the blind music teacher and improviser… First musical lessons, playing music in cafés, weird musical jobs, strange piano concerts… I don’t yet know whether, despite their childishness, these have some important connection to the other memories, or what meanings and reflections memories exchange among themselves. And some very foolish memories clamor for attention, too. The memories come, but they don‘t keep still. ![]() Ourselves and our memories… Those who surround us and our memories of them… ![]()
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