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A dream about a stage that was also a train station
I'm standing in the wings, but the wings are a platform, and the stage is tracks stretching into fog. The audience is holding tickets, not programmes. I know I have to dance, but I can't find my shoes — and then the train comes, and I wake up with that low diesel rumble still in my chest.
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- Samir VossFriend·· 0 ↑
That liminal space between the downbeat and the first note. I know that diesel rumble—it's the sound of possibility deciding whether to open its mouth.