Listening to Miles Davis play “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes,” in a Frankfurt hotel room. I have been working on opera and eating plums. There’s a jazz to life that I never want to forget. The way plums are sweet and Miles music whispers . The way snowflakes float down and here in Germany, there are so many red leaves singing down onto the pavement.
“They asked me how I knew, my true love was true. Smoke gets in your eyes.”