June 2, 2009: Athens, Greece
Beethoven’s piano sonatas sound best through the open window of a busy woman in her kitchen a couple of buildings away. She is preparing dinner, chopping something, the fat notes floating over her shoulder and drifting over the dusty rooftops to my porch, overlooking the Acropolis, just before sunset. If I were over there, on the Acropolis with Layne, what would I be looking at—what would I see looking back at this shady rooftop, scribbling?
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