Not that question either. I mean, you can ask. But itʼs really not that important, and besides, youʼll just get something vaguely esoteric, like “Who? You. Me. Us. This.” Whatever.

Ok then, how? Ah, so when that affection between fingers and strings becomes mutual, and when weʼve touched and played over and over, it eventually becomes noticed. As in, I begin to notice the recognition on her face. And then she says a word.

It always begins with “s”. Because thatʼs the rule. The word has to begin with the letter “s”. Donʼt ask why. Weʼre talking how.

And then one day, long after these chords have taken form and are about to be released, words will appear in my dropbox. And Iʼll know the time has come to begin the end. To finish. Because now it has her words. Which she sometimes steals from me.

She has a thing about that.

Arne Hou Uerkvitz, music and maestro
Sheren Spence Frame, lyrics and muse

With undying gratitude to the mistress, the Bosphorus, the “L”,
the colors red and black, and to city streets anywhere we find them.

© 2010 th(is)how
all rights reserved

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