Music in Berlin

35 eager (vaccinated, tested) concertgoers snuggled into the cozy interior of FRAMED Berlin, a cultural salon and gallery in the Friedrichshain district. Berlin’s long summer was coming to a close and couples nestled in corners, wine in hand, and closed their eyes to focus on the sparkled sounds of Spanish guitar and a soaring voice

Her Hardest Hue to Hold

Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. -Robert Frost We decided it was the best place to study flamingos, but camping was

Why Did You Twist Me Up?

Was the Moon A witness Or an accomplice?  I can’t tell But, Both times It was there Sleepless Swollen eye An overripe orange That I mistook  For the sun Why did you twist me up? I ask the staring eye                                                  Who, Clutching every reply Doubts to confide Even a hiccup                                           Hollow Pulp-less fruit With

I Sound Like It

Again, the phonograph replays the record. The very first motion of the driver’s ferrite, pointy reader-head clicked heavily on the periphery of the disk causing the first friction on the shellac surface and sounding like a glitchy fuzz, whose prosaic particles started moving, vibrating randomly in the space generating broken waves without any predictable order.