it all started with "ça plane pour moi" on a Bontempi organ

Ticobsi Little Music Shack (TLMS)

lavaldalalavalda

walkagainstclimate

autostradadelsoul

gogoririyayazz

taxiathlon

141E55th

parissarasempreparigi

tatooandmisteralfredatthegoldenpond

wburgflow

nineteeneleventwentythree

dectwo

imissu

brusselsversustheworld

handmadesoap

onemoretimeplease

thenameoftheblame

temptationofabelgianchocolate

napolifromspace

We never spoke in simple lines,
Our truths were tuned, our hearts in rhyme.
You’d drop a verse, I’d hum reply,
Two melodies beneath one sky.

In every chord, a clue was cast,
In every key, a glance that passed 
We borrowed words from vinyl ghosts,
And said the things we feared the most.

We were speaking in songs, not saying a thing,
Letting Lennon and Cohen confess what we mean.
Every chorus concealed what our courage postponed,
We were lovers who whispered through microphones.

You’d cue the crackle, soft and sly,
A sigh disguised in “I’ll Be Fine.”
I’d send a tune at 2 A.M.,
A trembling truth in requiem.

And in those tracks, our souls entwined,
Between the bass and borrowed lines 
Our love was played, not plainly told,
A secret spun in stereo gold.

We were speaking in songs, not saying a thing,
Letting Billie and Bowie translate our feelings.
Every bridge that we crossed was a record we’d known,
We were ghosts in a groove, decoding our tones.

Some nights I still scroll through the sound,
Your voice’s echo wrapped in vinyl round.
A needle finds what lips once meant,
Our silences still instrument.

We were speaking in songs, not saying a thing,
Letting lyrics and longing entwine in between.
Now the station is static, but the feeling’s not gone 
We still speak in songs…
when the silence comes on.

Ghosts in a groove

granitadicaffècontè

It all started by « Ça plane pour moi » with a Bontempi.
Notes are nothing, emotions are everything.