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Issue: 1025 | 24th day of Sleeping, Y27 |
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"Echoes in the Snow" by kadface
I knew that I was growing old when I really started getting into jazz. My old man was much the same. I remember every Sunday morning he would go into his library, take a record off the shelf, and set it on the record player. It was like a ritual. He would sit back in his brown leather chair, eyes closed, humming along, and tapping his feet. Whenever I picture him now, I see the sunlight coming through the window, lighting up the dust with a golden glow, spiral smoke rising from the Borovan as it slowly goes cold. It’s only recently that I have started to realise how much I miss those days. I find myself thinking about them more and more during the winter months, waiting for the days to lengthen and life to return. It was the third day of the Month of Sleeping, and the world had filled with snow and ice. I had taken down my Christmas tree, and I knew it would be the last time I played the Jazzmosis seasonal album until it went back up. Sitting in my own leather chair, I allowed my eyes to close with the heaviness of a long day’s work. Although I felt at peace, I had an air of melancholy that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. As I listened to the fireplace cracking, I was close...
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 Echoes in the Snow
"I knew that I was growing old when I really started getting into jazz. My old man was much the same. I remember every Sunday morning he would..."
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