fallariera

It feels like there's a beat in the air with the light shining just right, and all of a sudden I wish I was playing the guitar. It's a funny sort of wish because I only played it for half a year in elementary school when I had to, and I was never very keen on playing it anyway. Yet I hold my hands in the right positions and remember the old one I used to practice on at home because the school ones couldn't be borrowed. Then, curiously, I begin to wonder. Was that your old guitar? I remember the musty wood smell and the strings that my dad flipped over just for me so that I could play it left-handed like I'm meant to. It's back in an attic s