Linklater on the road again.
Dreams of India dancing in their heads materialize in sumptuousness.
Electric blues make things suddenly excellent.
And it goes the way of the homemade comic book, and so immediately bogus.
Loud jazz, beat poetry, fragments become a whole.
Crows - black gulls in a white sky - biting off all they can chew.
And sometimes, you want to go in with discretion.