echoes of old words
nascent shapes of words unborn
mix on the threshold
---
When Dalida sings "Paroles," that is beauty. When Miriam Makeba sings "Pata pata," that is beauty. When Cesaria Evora sings anything, "Sodade," for example, that is beauty.
Is it wrong that when I feel particularly low as regards my own progress towards darn goodness (I really don't aspire towards greatness or anything like that) at the craft, I remind myself that even those three pearls of music making had to practice as well?
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