the first time i heard
segovia
was on the radio
driving through maryland late at night in a january storm switching from snow to ice with each hill
and curve in the road
a treacherous journey
but that soft guitar in deft hands seemed to offer guidance
i felt as if the car were holding still
in order to listen to him
and the world around us was the thing in motion
Related
Author: Renee Newlon
I am a Turkish American writer and photographer. I work in short-form prose, poetic fragments, and photography. I don’t photograph the event; I photograph the moment after the event. A few things that stay with me: Plato’s Cave, Oberg’s Culture Shock, and Beethoven’s Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours. My greatest teacher was my college philosophy professor, Sister Jane Sullivan, who taught me how to think and how to see.
View all posts by Renee Newlon
