Perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day.
That a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes.
And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house — the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture — must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for.
Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.
Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things
OK, talk to you
South America, Australia, France, Germany, UK, Africa
Calling out around the world
Are you ready for a brand new beat
Summer's here and the time is right
For dancing in the streets
They're dancing in Chicago
Down in New Orleans
In New York City
All we need is music, sweet music
There'll be music everywhere
They'll be swinging, swaying, records playing
Dancing in the street, oh
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