Jazz

The tenor sax sounds cheesy to me. The drum was nice, the guitarist talented, but the bassist. The bassist was incredible. His fingers articulating the giant neck of that gorgeous wooden yacht of an instrument. He was not sexy. But his music was.

Then there was the children, almost mistaken for a woolly sheep racing past the window. Why are there children in the street? It is about 10PM, Central, the old route 66 splitting Albuquerque into southern and northern ventricles. There we are listening to jazz in the tapas bar and here they are small children rustling by on the sidewalk, barely visible through the painted glass windows.

And then there was V. We see her in the bar, after dinner. We've been "friends" for a while but how is it that you can still feel distant from someone who you've known for a while? How is it that someone can make you feel uncomfortable without saying anything at all that should make one uncomfortable? What's the use in being self conscious? What's the use of consciousness of self? Who are we and why do we care what other people think? And why are those small children trampling the sidewalk, and why are they peering through the cloudy windows into a world they cannot be part of? Who are they and why are they here?