„Thursday Afternoon in Paris“

A dream story with an album you’ve never heard of. Once again you are there, in your beloved little park called „Le Jardin du Luxembourg“, not far away from that old time jazz club, „Le Chat Noir“, Robert Wyatt once sang about, a smoky club with wooden walls that is long gone, with all its long stories, told and told again. Or never told. You still have a Sony walkman from the past that works fine, except for some stutter in winter. You put in that cassette a friend gave you as a gift and a sweet reminder of hot love and the best galettes in town. You never knew about this album to exist. Pretend, it is 1998. For reasons hard to explain you keep playing this one track again and again on a warm afternoon in Paris. A sentimental journey, and this piece HERE calls you by your name.