Friday, March 10, 2006. My brain, it feels the strain. I try to stop the flood. The crud is rushing in. In like a swarm of bees. Oh, my god, I am allergic to bees. I try to get away. I am covered in the crud. Do I need a shovel. Or a new pen? Where do these thoughts come from. I try to write about love, and flowers. The power to see, the brighter side of me. I long for the sun to shine.

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With a round and beautiful voice, an exceptional stage presence, and a messa di voce that after Caballe was barely to find . Leave a Reply Cancel reply. You must be logged in.