sábado, 5 de diciembre de 2015

Caravan (15) Early July 1967

           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.

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