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It's a glorious spring day, the hotel window is open, the sun is streaming in, hence I'm listening to the guy across the street try to get out of paying to be unclamped.
The general throb of city life, the traffic, the market traders, the pigeons and the distant trains, are on bass for his performance providing a lulling backdrop to an intense battle of wits, (but I was only there two faarking minutes).
On strings, Charlie Christian - Complete Studio Recordings, and a cup of hot Rosie Lee.
Filling the wind section of my little orchestra is the thrum of the breeze through the flags on the walls, it's hollow moan as it whistles through the space in the hinge of the window and the gentle crackle and hiss of my joint burning away as I watch events pass and smoke.
OK, I'm stoned, I'll stop now.
SS
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