Now the trees are whispering
As I lie here in the grass
Waiting for this long cold night to pass
A thousand eyes are gazing down
Like bullet holes shot into the roof
As I lie here scratching
For a grain of truth

Tod A./Firewater, from "Balaliaka"

I listen to this song at least once a week. With some songs, you've just gotta do that. It's strange that so much of what I like has an Eastern European feel to it. Firewater are mostly from New York, but you'd never guess that if you just had their music to go by.

I'm continuing to think about what really resonates with me. I'm listening to my gut. I'm also listening to beautiful music.

And drinking tea.

And preparing to do some reading.