Echo Park, Los Angeles

unday. A restless day harmonizing discordantly with the music of a night that both questioned my thought process while at the same time confirming it in unexpected manners. Couch-bound, I hear a woman singing somewhere.

There’s an exuberant blend of melancholic confession and joyful praise going on here. Something in me is moving, but it’s more than blood flow, it’s neurophysiologically indefinable. It’s as light as air and as heavy as…