There is a girl. She's wandering down the street.
The street is damp and with a metallic sheen. I like the look, and geometric contrasts offset by the colors: the black of the asphalt, taupe of the concrete (which is taupe when it's wet, not grey,) and rust of the brick buildings that loom on the edges of everything. And of course the spots of green from the new spring leaves that are even greener than usual because of the cool, New York mistiness on a cloudy day, ready for rain.
She takes small, but sure steps. Such expressiveness, even from just the back of her little head. Her hands are open and not out to the sides, but not down either... just kind of floating; she's feeling the wet air stroke her palms as she moves forward, painting them with dewy condensation.
Improv is not just for music. It's for blog posts, too. See?
Here we go, Day 232: https://ia800304.us.archive.org/16/items/Improv4212/20120402135611.mp3
The street is damp and with a metallic sheen. I like the look, and geometric contrasts offset by the colors: the black of the asphalt, taupe of the concrete (which is taupe when it's wet, not grey,) and rust of the brick buildings that loom on the edges of everything. And of course the spots of green from the new spring leaves that are even greener than usual because of the cool, New York mistiness on a cloudy day, ready for rain.
She takes small, but sure steps. Such expressiveness, even from just the back of her little head. Her hands are open and not out to the sides, but not down either... just kind of floating; she's feeling the wet air stroke her palms as she moves forward, painting them with dewy condensation.
Improv is not just for music. It's for blog posts, too. See?
Here we go, Day 232: https://ia800304.us.archive.org/16/items/Improv4212/20120402135611.mp3