"Son, I hear whispers of your writing. They do injustice to my ears. I need your words on these words I hear. Son, I hear little of mastery, I hear… disappointments. Poison words. A page, so dark with crude strokes—no beauty in what it is meant for, what art is..."
Play and/or download the audio version here...🙂 "Life… and death… there is not a pair as inextricably intertwined..."