Good question, Joe. Best one. As usual, I have no fucking clue. This has always been the structure of our conversations. After the initial pleasanteries we became too fond of to discard even after decades of intimacy, he’s suddenly come out with a question that defies all answers I could possibly give, then we’d sit on the makeshift bed as some mild, saxophone melody made its way from the ’59 and into the air, slowly sifting the minutes of the evening into little eternities of silence. A contemplative, congenial one, not too uncomfortable to bear, but loaded enough to make you grow. Continue reading →