The dragon roars from the other side of the canal, startling me from this sketch about something that may or may not have happened. It certainly could have I suppose, and possibly did somewhere.

Another exercise in repetition. Another exercise in repetition. I dream of one day writing a song with no repetitive elements. A song that grows, as Virgil Thomson has said, like a plant, organically flowering from root to stem to limbs stretching toward the Sun. A natural progression that builds upon itself and then takes leave of its previous melody and rhythm.

Today is not that day. The dragon is getting closer….

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