Monday 18th August



She sang the blues deep as desert dust and longing, yearning for something lost awaiting it’s unpromised return.
She sang black bird melancholy strumming a guitar with fingers unable to sister the beauty of her voice. A big man to her left, old as the rocks, played something older in a tie-dye shirt. Silver beard and swept back hair encrusted with salt from a life lived beneath the sea.
The whites of her mascara eyes looked into the faces of the crowd beneath hieroglyph brows dancing to a rhythm that betrayed her thoughts. Then, closing her eyes, she leaned back in black exposing her skin & released the silence of a North African desert from between her lips.


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