Standing
on the steps of the caravan, the sun is drawing circles of light over
my closed eyelids. I have still not awakened from the dream that last
night ended a long, conclusive journey, my consciousness tries to
fill in the last stage of the return when a magenta voice makes me
open my eyes. Rick, smiling.
-
Hiya, Nar! Long time no see! Where've
ya been?
-
It´s a long story...Ya could say I've been a pilgrim, visited a
couple of places, got back last night. How 'bout you?
-
All good, enjoying the summer, basement's getting better all the
time. There's a good vibe and Dylan's super inspired, ideas pouring
out non-stop...A couple of days back he gave me some more lyrics he's
almost finished: “Give
it some rhythm”
he said, so that's what I'm doing.
-
So, what's it about?
-
The truth is I'm not sure myself...Well, there are verses
which talk to a 'you' and they rise up around a wheel...It's on fire
and about to explode. And I'm trying to shore up that feeling
of imminent danger with the bass, so he can ride it with his voice.
Anyways, if you come by the basement tonight, you can hear what it is
sounding like at the moment.
-
And what would Dylan say if I turned up again?
-
Nothing, I suppose. You're lucky he likes you. Yes, it does happen
sometimes! Why the face!?
-
How can you be so sure?
-
Well, the other day he asked about you...And once I heard him say you
have the “right attitude”,
that you too prefer “old news”.
-
What did he mean?
-
You'd better ask him. Here he comes.
Dylan
is walking past the kitchen entrance. He stops for a moment, at the
door, as if looking for something or someone. Walking now towards the
caravan his dark glasses hide the tracks of his eyes.