Down the Street with the Red Wind
The street in which I live is beautiful and it is not big. It is only three addresses long. If you count both of its sides. On one side of the street there is a big city park, while on the other side there is an equally big temple of the church that deals with our last days. The auxiliary inventory of the temple also includes promenades and benches, workshops and aggregates. Everything is like a paradise idyll and some completely different time. A different century.
Finally, at the end of the street there is the tower where I live. There is a balcony view that reaches the sea. When I am there I enjoy. From my balcony you can also see the place where I am waiting at the moment. I am at the other end of the street, on the corner from where I have a perfect view of the entrance to the park, protected quite well with the darkened car windows. Never before has my work taken me to my own yard. As opposed to “never” there is “first time” smiling.
Music is the key to waiting and we are mostly on the same side when it comes to unlocking secrets. I do doubt, however, that I would die for it, as I used to. Charlie Haden often used to say that he had moved to Los Angeles searching for the piano player Hampton Hawes. I don’t know what I just remembered it, nor where it would take me.
“The piano was the only certain friend that I ever had because it was the only one that did not change, I always understood it and it always directly reacted to my actions. The pianos never change. They just sit there all day long. If you feel like playing me, I’m here…”, mumbled Hampton Hawes.
Hawes is often on my gramophone. I was not careful enough and he has moved into my head. Just as parts of Haden’s career. Just like Charlie Haden himself. We speak as if it is teh most normal thing. Their advice can be precious. Especially when Šodan, my partner from time to time, is not available.