“If I could make this go right I’d go home.Then all I’d ever learned would fade away, like a photograph, a word in a mouth…” the sound of her voice fills the room, accompanied by folky guitar fingerpicking, “We’re like barefoot angels that glow in the dark. Sing it hard, sing it hard, sing it lonely….” her voice trails off and now the guitar is left alone, filling the room with stardust and visions. I’m mesmerized, and, frankly, a little stoned. But regardless…
