Ballads and buildings

August 21st, 2013, 9am

It was 15°C with few clouds. The breeze was light.

There’s always something new now. Something old being remade as something new, really. I look at this old theatre and think that there must be a word for the aching one feels for a place, time, and moment that’s never been experienced, and never could be. It’s probably German.

I’ve got my melancholy up anyway. The fog and overcast mornings precipitate it, anchoring me in that le Carré frame of mind. And then I hear the song in damp strains seeping through old insulation and broken windows.

Sounds like a Édith Piaf-Latin Ballad-Fado mix

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And here I was, hoping I'd learn something about me

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