Sicilian Odalisque
As I lay lying in the hospital the first night, sick with pneumonia and mad from mixing medicaments that hadn't ought be mixed, I yelled out, "I admit that I edited for clarity, but I didn't write the document!"
I don't know why I yelled out those words - something about the danger I imagined myself to be in, I guess - but as I yelled, something in my throat slipped, and I can now hit those low notes that my voice used to crack open upon.
Silver lining, and all that jazz . . .
Labels: Jazz
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