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Monday, November 09, 2015

November 1955

 
She might have made a good wife for the Long Man of Wilmington.

She might have conjured two elderly musicians in a Budapest square, wheezing accordion supporting scratchy fiddle: such a fragile take on Autumn Leaves transposing her into a stem of melody that would sprout in the late summer chill. Or not.

(Footnotes from Words Out of Time: see here.)