This one´s for you, Cool.
Love
D.

And in 1957 everything turned out just fine.

I was going to Paris to meet Bird, and we´re gonna play some themes at the Blue Note. The first night was swell, full of “strides” and freewheelings. And then was this brunette talking softly with this French accent and uh, I got moved.

She told me she wanted to sing, and with no spare, I called her at the stage, and we figured it out. It had to be “Let´s get lost”. I remember to stay awake all night long, without the stuff, you know. She drove me mad and I can tell. Man, I loved her.

So, the nights came flashing like a blaze, she wouldn´t come anymore.

I got back to the States, and that emptiness disturbing even my “tramp”. That emptiness, hollow, shadeless. One night after a gig in the Village, I realize my constant abandon, a constant craving that won´t leave me, even if I had, I don’t know, that chicks whose scarfs kept laying down on Howard Hughes’s couch.

As I walked down the street I could see two fancy men at the Heaven’s parking lot, having some beer and, yeah, handing acoustic guitars. Stoped by, took my trumpet and started to follow them. Senses and synergy. My pals, Mr. Declan and “Killer” were from that rock scene, you know… But we played a great session, a lot of blues and swings.

Man, the night was wild! I finally discovered my partner. I´ll get along with the sound.