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The night was too still to not expect something to suddenly burst forth. Appetite disguised as shadow, answering a call.
She sat on the floor, her fingertips reading the dimples and stitching of my shoe. Europa, she was still wearing the night's party dress. Her sepia toned skin making it look like a rumpled negative image, all of yesterday's parties.
In my own way, I mimic her, fingertips falling in and out of the holes of a double six domino.
My head aches, I hear a noise. She stops her shoe brail and cocks her head. Europa, does she hear it too or is she trying to find what I had heard? Deep in my thoughts, I had not noticed, she has already moved into the bed.
"Kill me twice, then let's go to sleep. No, I don't need music tonight, for any of it. I just want to hear you breath.
It was this tenderness which made me uneasy. I shut the lights, the one in the hall was out of my control. Light, from under the door, a thin dirty yellow blade, or perhaps a spot light which now showcased an empty black dress.
I love jazz because anything is possible; it has few rules and the best jazz breaks those ones. I prefer free improv because it doesn't really have any rules at all.
I was first exposed to jazz in my teens (in the late sixties).
The first jazz record I bought was Filles de Kilimanjaro by Miles Davis, shortly followed by Extrapolation by John McLaughlin.
My advice to new listeners is to listen as widely as possible and not to make snap judgments--stick with it.