In a cabaret I am myself. There is the dangerous expectation of success of a joke, a note, or a dance, and the reality that you are naked before the audience, and have given them the right to judge the inner most parts of your being.
Winter Solstice
We drive in the darkpast the open fieldsinto the neighborhood:Millions of lights on the housesin the trees—the world a-twinkle with hopewhile overhead a...
Street Scene
Early evening heat rises frompavements, from cement and asphalt,carrying a scent slightly sour,slightly acrid—oily and tar-like.
Outside the café, beyond its fenced-intables, a large...
