Mud Slide Slim and the Blue Horizon

A nasty voice inside me screams “Wanker! You are listening to a James Taylor album again. Stop that!”

No, I will not stop. I keep listening.

Warm grooves send me reeling towards a rustic cabin. I visualize a hickory rocking chair, an old rug, snow in the fields out the window. I can feel fireplace heat, sweet wood scent. I’ve never been inside it before.

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