I remember sitting by the fireplace one eventide, listening to the waxen clicks of the Pang vinyl - as I tend to do in the witching hours between dusk and dawn - when a gift was delivered to the flocculent chamber of my imagination. “Not like I’m counting the days,” she mused through the phonograph, “but it’s been twenty-five.” I caught my breath, ran out of the library, and rushed down the spiral staircase to the solemnly decorated vestibule where I keep the telephone. I cannot recall if it was isolation, invention, or the somnambulant whimsy that holidays are made of, but soon we had struck upon an inversion most wicked, yet somehow both merry and true 🕯
Ty
@carolineplz for making this with me, the finale to last night’s Pop Carol. Also ty to everyone who attended & took part, was a genuinely heart warming eve. See more at
@pcmus 💙
