Two from one of my old notebooks.
Just three floors short! And no elevator. Not any more.
The Palace at night. Memories from a far-off place, from a far-off time.
We have what we have. Others might dream of destruction. Hold on.
We must keep searching for our epic moments, and write them down lest we forget.
A few final thoughts as we approach the beginning of a new year at The Palace.
These days at The Palace are quieter, more introspective, but we won’t be here forever. Write a letter, read a book, spin a record.
Objects and memory are forever.
It’s all music: poems, songs, records, books. Now, and through the ages.
Let’s all meet again in a year’s time, and be in a better place.