How Come This Taste//and in pieces we puzzled ourselves

El Guincho - Cuando Maravilla Fui
Eddie Vedder - Goodbye
Radiohead - 4 Minute Warning

// pop.acoustic.alternative \\

Anytime you feel uncomfortable, imagine you are running through a playground preserved somewhere in the back of your mind. The monkey bars are no longer rusted, and the pavement is dangerous, but nonthreatening. Revisit the swing set, and soar off the ground with your loud chains r r r r rrustling behind you.
The trees seem so tall, so grand in their verdant composure. Your toes kick at their tips when you feel the most like an eagle, wings ready for the glide back down - ah, the wind in your hair as you float, the wink of the sun as leaves break to let it shine...the breeze that reaches deep into your heart and squeezes lightly, though strong enough to squeeze a tear

out of the eyes of a man in a suit, face furrowed and unfocused staring into a screensaver called "Spring Time." The plastic cubicle walls are firm against the flickering lights that flutter above him, and his stapler has lost its red coat long ago. Circulated air gives off a conditioned chill that slowly creeps into his bones and makes his knuckles shake. The lady next to him has stopped watering her flower, and the crisp leaves are beginning to collect around the coat rack, still leaves that flutter never and r r r r rrustle every time someone WALKS past: a fellow belt and tie mannequin, never any flattering colors.

Twenty-five years have gone too fast, yet the crisp afternoon air of a childhood summer will stay with him until the day he dies.


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