Walking the neighborhood at dusk, watching the scenes through house windows; a couple arguing, another kissing, a tiny dog barking at a window, a man walking across the room, a mother soothing a child, TVs flickering neon. Smells of grilled steak, sautéed garlic and onions, stir fry.
And then you hear music. Not a radio, nor CD. No, it’s a band, a garage band, jamming. Practicing for a gig, cutting a CD, keeping their eye on the club marquees, dreaming of their name in lights.
But for now, it’s a secret, the neighborhood secret. A secret waiting to be told.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The real secret of success is enthusiasm
-- Walter Chrylser
Secrets are made to be found out with time
-- Charles Sanford
[In honor of another fine visit with Mr. Sands.]