Who likes original music about horses in whatever style this music is? Honestly, I don’t know if it’s Americana, crossover country, pop rock, or whatever the fuck.
I close my eyes,
and the sound blankets over me,
wrapping my body in static warmth.
A pulse, a flicker—
then her voice kicks in,
sultry, raw, stretching syllables like elastic.
A whisper, then a burn.
A cry disguised as cool.
That silent movement is what surprised me most, because outwardly it can look like nothing is happening while underneath the numbers are telling a completely different story.
"An artist’s reflection on attention, creativity, and the systems that train us to keep moving." — I was walking down a sidewalk in Los Angeles when I came across this stereo — out of place, quiet, and strangely present in a city that rarely stops moving. Photo by Christopher Sopher
One night — cold, windy, the kind of night Chicago hands you without apology — our phone rang. His friend said something that felt both impossible and totally believable in that downtown melting pot.
“Get down to Buddy Guy’s Legends right now. We’re playing pool with Buddy and Eric Clapton.”
