A long, long time ago, I can still remember, how the music used to make me smile. Live music sings to the soul; it’s why I lingered here. Folks arrived buttoned up, then began tapping a foot… swaying… singing and finally they danced. Music made them feel alive… made me feel alive too.
But February made me shiver. The doors closed and I thought the music died.
Of all people, I should have known: The music didn’t die, it just moved on: into laptops and radios, virtual concerts and family karaoke parties. The music went home. Now, so can I.
Thank you to Sandra Crook for this week’s photo. Maybe it’s the mood I’m in, but it struck me this way, so here’s a fairly say-what-you-see response from me for Friday Fiction. Critique away!
Sandy was so excited to be going on holiday, she even joined in the bus transfer sing-a-long. She needed this break, after all the drama with Jackson: to lie on the beach and swim in the pool, to read, flirt and sip cocktails alone in the sun.
The hotel was smaller and shabbier than she’d expected, but it didn’t dent her excitement. The water was calling to her. After checking in, Sandy stepped out onto the pool deck. Stinky black seaweed covered the ground and clung to her sandals. Then she saw the sign: “Desole – la piscine est ferme”.