gershwin

You go in. It’s a big room and you sit down. That is, supposedly, how it normally goes.

So you sit, and you wait…
You wait and you think… And you think and you wait…

It is not easy: It is, perhaps, never easy.

All that has happened, everything you remember. Everything everyone remembers; how could that ever be easy?

…

She sits, waiting. Together but lost. Alone and surrounded. And you can only watch and wait and think and hope.

…

What did he do? What didn’t he do?
He smoked, he dived, he swam, he argued and he smoked some more. And that is only what you know. Only what you have been told.

What more can there be? What more must there be?

And so you sit and you wait. You wait to begin and you wait for the wait to be over.

…

The start is, perhaps as it always is with these things… tentative? But as it goes, and the music builds and the winds of Gershwin come in… things are okay.

Slowly, surely and solidly it goes.
Bringing everything, bringing him.

Just one of his favourite songs.
Just embodying everything you ever knew and a few things you did not.
Just… apt.

Everything I never knew about him and a few things I did, all in one song.

Brilliant.