The branches of the trees are black against a cold gray sky. It is a cold, damp late October day and I am outside, playing alone. A new road is being cut into our community and I am digging in the side of a small hill; the raw cut exposed by the passing of a …
Running in the early morning sun, I realized that it was Mozart’s fault. Were it not for Mozart, I might be running down an entirely different road as the sun dawned on the horizon. Mozart, you see, enchants me with his siren songs and changes that I would make in my life become impossible. Let …
