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candle
 

He had a thick accent I couldn't place, and played a gorgeous sax. I don't even like the saxophone, much preferring the trumpet, but I'll admit he played it hot. Sometimes his hands didn't seem to move at all on the keys, as he arched his back and screwed up his face and pushed out the music.

His face would get red when he played, deep in a solo. It almost looked like it hurt to play, to breathe: pushing out all that air, tense and relaxed, glowing. (7/16/05)

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All Images Copyright 2005 -- Robert Walton