Die Writing


Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on May 8, 2010


Tom Walbank.


He wasn’t playing the guitar. He was a conduit for the guitar’s voice. Sitting in a chair, hunched over – almost curled around the guitar, pouring forth blues. This was the kind of blues that casually strolled along the room, between dancers, between the drinks, and then, with a devilish grin, reached into your chest, gripped your heart, and filled you with the best kind of sadness. You looked back at your deepest heartbreak, felt it all over again, except this time you drew strength from it instead of pain. You felt alright, you moved with the music, and you uttered a satisfied, “Yeah…”

There was no stopping it, this blues. It reigned. A tiny space packed with people, all of their heart beating together, in tune with this music. It went between a gut-wrenching slow draw to a fast mind-blowing fury. It pinned you to the wall and made you stay. It made you forget the reason you wanted to leave. It embraced you and whispered in your ear.

It made you fall in love, and then it left the building. You were still sitting there, grinning like a fool.

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