My Ten. Not top. Not ranked, at least not consciously, despite the numbering. Not for certain random, either, because who could know. Not updated regularly. Not important. But, probably, not meaningless.
- This template is by Style Hatch
One winter afternoon, in the midwestern state I was born in but was now just visiting I was out for a ride, alone, cold, happy, on my way toward tired but not close, on a road like a spear thrown through the far horizon. On either side of me knocked-down cornfields rustled in a frenzied arctic wind. Around and over and into my bicycle, the same wind sometimes was like a child learning to whistle, sometimes like someone blowing bass notes by breath into an empty coke bottle, sometimes like the smack of a bantamweight’s glove.
— my contribution to a series of essays on sound, music and one of its makers, Rebecca Gates
