ceciliatan

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

The word came via voice mail a few days later that Ziggy was flying to New York on Monday, so I called Sarah to see if she was around for the weekend and if she wanted company. She said yes and yes, so I got on a train on Friday morning (where by morning I mean 12 noon) with a guitar and a book (and then slept the whole way anyway).

I thought I heard a camera shutter snapping when I walked up to the lobby of her building. The door man greeted me like he remembered me. He was a slim hispanic man with very short cropped hair and creases around his eyes.

“You might want to check for paparazzi,” I told him. “In the bushes or something.”