Samdie || 001
An old jazz cat once told him the world was painted with electricity. That there was a charge in the air that pulsed and stuttered and kept everyone connected. Granted back then he didn’t have the slightest clue about what the old man was going on about, but now- now he had an inkling. To him that electricity was sounds. And nothing had more sound than a city at night. Beats and pules and complete silences that filled with a buzz that was the baseline for a complete symphony. Nights like this Sam felt alive. Its why he spent whatever time he could wandering out at night, his world becoming brighter as the nights grew darker. Trying to pick up those electric vibes the old man had talked about where ever he went. It was a very night like this he had been walking around, guide stick in hand and sax case strapped on, he happened upon a private show. On a quite street with the lap lights buzz as it’s only occompinament he heard the faintest tune. A twinkle of a voice that felt as bright as it was sweet. The quite hums and pitches flowing through the air so smoothly that it had him trailing after just to hear. He was mesmerised, never had he heard a voice like that. He had to find out who owned it. He had to.Â