Over the Pearl River Delta, from Macau, in the south China Sea. In the two-plus years I lived in Macau, it was a rare day to see the sun.
Look…! It’s this way. Every morning, I get an email from the NY Times in my inbox. Each ‘category’ of news has what the Times considers to be the top three stories of the day. Digital subscriptions being what they are, it works out well for me; because I am frequently away from home, for one reason or another. Plus, I’m not wasting paper/trees/air/space…
You insist on a beat to your music – a pounding, driving rhythm that stirs your blood. But where in your world is a place for the Music which enflames the head, as well as the heart? EJ Liederstein
I don’t much feel like making any snarky remarks, or snide asides or amusing quips. About much of anything. Not today. There doesn’t seem to be any room for humor. Not when people I know are going through hell. Not when people – actual living, breathing, hungry, sweating flesh and blood people – are being gassed and sprayed by their own fellow citizens. The people of Hong Kong are in the midst of a crisis.
“Music is not a conversation, any more than Poetry is. It is a goad: at times a whip – at others a leash. You may rail against the stick, and cry out for justice, for freedom; but when have you – in all your burning desire for the releasing – when have you created anything half as glorious as that which the least of the Masters created from within their imprisonment?” EJ Liederstein