Hear the guitar strings and trumpets and drums, pianos, and backup singers, sing together in harmony. The karaoke machine at full blast. The voice of the person who always sings in his chair, day after day.
This is not a mere voice in my head, nor the imagination of my mind at its full potential but the almost every day lifestyle as soon as we get home from our busy lives.
The same voice I hear every time as loud as it always has been. Changing the song any time the previous song is not a good one. The tongues rolling to double rr's when he sings spanish. Which is the only songs he will sing.
Hear him sing like Silvio Rodriguez, or Julio Iglesias. Such compassion and effort into singing, even if it is just a machine with a microphine connected to it.
We all listen, and we learn. Even the pets of the house don't attempt to ignore it. Que lindo, she would say and then kiss head.
But then the singing stops, and on to more important things.
But that's what I call the good life.
