Something about how black music in this case the blues being one of the only forms of expression, emotional/spiritual outlets allowed lest you be threatened for your life with any other form of expression of discontent. You can’t fight back you can’t stage an uprising you can’t even cry but you can sing and make music. And that form of expression that is so sacred yet precious to maintaining your humanity being a beacon for vultures or vampires to witness and prey upon your supposed shared suffering for their own agenda to mutate or spoil or co-opt for profit, greed, or supremacy/erasure. That expressing vulnerability in a way so beautifully could be taken advantage of at any point by wolves in sheep’s clothing. This is why Sammy clings in tears to his broken guitar after everything. They can’t take away his connection to humanity even after all that he’s been subjected to. Even if it calls on the wolves or the Devil himself yet again because to do so means forfeiting his soul.




















