Blogovision 2023: Στο 12 μια βραδιά στο Heart O' Chicago Motel

                                                         From Buenos Aires' clouds I soared,

To Chicago's shores, a transient bird.

The Heart O' Chicago, a motel quaint,

Where weary souls find respite and rearrange.

 

I checked in, my room a humble space,

A place to rest, a place of grace.

Outside, a smoker, silhouetted tall,

Jaimie Branch, a jazz maestro, answering my call.

 

We sparked a conversation, our voices low,

Of jazz odysseys, where melodies flow.

Panama's rhythms, Taipei's allure,

A symphony of sounds, the night wore on.

 

A hunger pang arose, a craving acute,

For local fare, a taste to suit.

Barrelman Tavern, a beacon bright,

Where cheese curds and Four Roses played their part in the night.

 

Over cocktails, our discussions flowed,

Indonesia's experimental scene, the tale it bestowed.

Hours melted away, like clouds on the breeze,

Our laughter echoed, our spirits at ease.

 

The motel's embrace, a refuge so kind,

Where broken vinyl records the rhythm defined.

Giant clouds drifted, like dreams in the air,

A voice beckoned us, "Fly or die, oh so rare."

 

The dawn broke, a gentle embrace,

As we woke from dreams, our souls in a daze.

The Heart O' Chicago, a memory etched,

A night of music, stories, and souls connected.

Στο 12 η Jaimie Branch και το Fly or Die