Sunday. Sunday. Sunday.
I woke up with a song on my heart. The haunting note-dance of it seems fitting somehow, even on this beautiful October-full-on-blue-sky cool day.
"What's the difference between you and me?
Something that deeply set you free.
It's an illusion."
Keith's old voice, Nora Jones' ancient voice.
Weaving together to create an illusion.
Meanwhile, trains go by and birds sing not with spring's hopeful lust, rather a mournful song of coming winter stillness and chill, a wandering, a wondering of how many years left to sing.
It's an illusion, baby.
But not the one you're thinking of.