wild women

there are only a few instruments that, when i see them, i feel the urge to run my fingers over them. to feel the curves and edges and make something come out of them, even if i can't.

the piano. with its polished wood and sound that makes me cry

the trumpet. with it's cool metallic taste and clear bell tones and the tightening of my lips and lungs

the conga with its sexy tightly stretched skin.

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