Memories of a mentor come to mind, the one known to most as Kiercl Elswise. Most know him, and most also know that he formed what we know today as desert blues.. I have no instrument with me here, in this small hovel, and I recall melodies through the circling smoke wafting upwards from the thin sweetgrass cigarette I hold. There are circles of chemists in the City, mostly in the Outer City, but these individuals create intense addictive synthetics used to, perhaps the best word is renovate, to forcefully renovate the minds of those who grow addicted. They are essentially gangs, rooted in a custom substance created to highten certain desirable traits, which also creates, over time, something that is more than a subculture.. perhaps we can call it a seed culture, for these circles have been in existence as long as this city, and it is how the various dynastic occupants of the chief industries and economies of the City maintain their power.
Such things cause me to curl up here, alone, surrounded and swimming in the free herb of our concotion, alive in the transient music quietly shimmering about in the wellspring of my soul.
The impossibility to share either the reminiscence or the longing for the freedom we have all discovered in the desert makes me, here, the deserted, not the deserter.
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