They were just a little obsessed, it was decided. Sitting in tight groups, eagerly whispering back and forth on cast-iron skeletons of summer chairs. The story went that as one sat down down, conversations’ well-worn fugues changed to something else entirely. On brightened eyes or the filigreed gardenette. Or weren’t the blood grapefruits chosen with […]
From Bill Morrison’s The Miner’s Hymns. Recorded live in Durham Cathedral. Via John Kelly.