Reading Proust by lamplight. It feels like watching paint dry, but the paint is actually life. Have you tried slow reading?
Black coffee, silence, then the keys. The city wakes up to the sound of my warm-up. I hope your morning is quieter than mine.
Just finished the set. The bartender asked for Chopin. I gave him Debussy instead. He looked confused. I liked it.
Three cities in three years. Still carrying the same piano bench in my head. Tonight’s crowd was... interesting.