My Body overwhelms the eye, weary/wary eye, with all the fine forms that it is made to, um, regard, unblinking -- in arte's supple and blinding 'light'. In, hazard the thought, the presence of in-laws and other squeamish folks. And the ear with that infinity of a melody it is surrounded by, and for which it has no dancing shoes -- nor no dancing partner.
Click to watch the video
Not to speak of the crescendo of a hook that so absorbs that one knows not any more when a semblance of reality, with all its ruggedness and scarcity of timbre, may resume. And this ocular-aural bewitching, this state of capture, be gone!
Click to watch the video
Not to speak of the crescendo of a hook that so absorbs that one knows not any more when a semblance of reality, with all its ruggedness and scarcity of timbre, may resume. And this ocular-aural bewitching, this state of capture, be gone!
