this is a lesson in balance and rhythm the combination of much syncopation and here to start it a confused looking bird the ugly and pretty the beautiful awkward

one minute i’m in central park then i’m down on delancey street from the bow’ry to st marks there’s a syncopated beat i’m streetwise i can improvise i’m streetsmart i’ve got new york city heart why should i worry why should i care i may not have a dime but i got street savoire faire why should i worry why should i care it’s just a bebopulation and i got street saviore faire the rhythm of the city but once you get it down then you can own this town you can wear the crown why should i worry why should i care i may not have a dime but i got street savoire faire why should i worry why should i care it’s just bebopulation and i got street savoire faire everything goes everything fits they love me at the chelsea they adore me at the ritz why should i worry why should i care and even when i cross

light’s of a dance floor, the night party scene the traffic and stoplights on a busy night street fast-paced and uptight, the quick and the driven this hyper-reality claims that it’s heaven

one minute i’m in central park then i’m down on delancey street from the bow’ry to st marks there’s a syncopated beat i’m streetwise i can improvise i’m streetsmart i’ve got new york city heart why should i worry why should i care i may not have a dime but i got street savoire faire why should i worry why should i care it’s just a bebopulation and i got street saviore faire the rhythm of the city but once you get it down then you can own this town you can wear the crown why should i worry why should i care i may not have a dime but i got street savoire faire why should i worry why should i care it’s just bebopulation and i got street savoire faire everything goes everything fits they love me at the chelsea they adore me at the ritz why should i worry why should i care and even when i cross

one minute i’m in central park then i’m down on delancey street from the bow’ry to st marks there’s a syncopated beat i’m streetwise i can improvise i’m streetsmart i’ve got new york city heart why should i worry why should i care i may not have a dime but i got street savoire faire why should i worry why should i care it’s just a bebopulation and i got street saviore faire the rhythm of the city but once you get it down then you can own this town you can wear the crown why should i worry why should i care i may not have a dime but i got street savoire faire why should i worry why should i care it’s just bebopulation and i got street savoire faire everything goes everything fits they love me at the chelsea they adore me at the ritz why should i worry why should i care and even when i cross

one minute i’m in central park then i’m down on delancey street from the bow’ry to st marks there’s a syncopated beat i’m streetwise i can improvise i’m streetsmart i’ve got new york city heart why should i worry why should i care i may not have a dime but i got street savoire faire why should i worry why should i care it’s just a bebopulation and i got street saviore faire the rhythm of the city but once you get it down then you can own this town you can wear the crown why should i worry why should i care i may not have a dime but i got street savoire faire why should i worry why should i care it’s just bebopulation and i got street savoire faire everything goes everything fits they love me at the chelsea they adore me at the ritz why should i worry why should i care and even when i cross

stars in your multitudes scarce to be counted filling the darkness with order and light you are the sentienels silent and sure keeping watch in the night you know your place in the sky you hold your course and your aim and each your season returns and returns and is always the same so it must be for so it is written on the doorway to paradise i see trees of green red roses too i see them bloom for me and you and i think to myself what a wonderful world i see skies of blue and clouds of white the bright blessed day the dark sacred night and i think to myself what a wonderful world the colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky are also on the faces of people going by i see friends shaking hands saying how do you do they’re really saying i love you see the morning light awake new beginnings it’s a beautiful day all around new mercies wait every moment is a movement of grace the world comes alive you have opened my eyes everything i see is in colour no more black and white because i’ve seen the light everything i see is in colour my life is coloured by your love full of patience full of kindness enough the sorrows of my yesterday are forgotten with joyful sounds of praise the world comes alive you have opened my eyes everything i see is in colour no more black and white because i’ve seen the light everything i see is in colour the world is alive in you i am alive

stars in your multitudes scarce to be counted filling the darkness with order and light you are the sentienels silent and sure keeping watch in the night you know your place in the sky you hold your course and your aim and each your season returns and returns and is always the same so it must be for so it is written on the doorway to paradise i see trees of green red roses too i see them bloom for me and you and i think to myself what a wonderful world i see skies of blue and clouds of white the bright blessed day the dark sacred night and i think to myself what a wonderful world the colors

stars in your multitudes scarce to be counted filling the darkness with order and light you are the sentienels silent and sure keeping watch in the night you know your place in the sky you hold your course and your aim and each your season returns and returns and is always the same so it must be for so it is written on the doorway to paradise i see trees of green red roses too i see them bloom for me and you and i think to myself what a wonderful world i see skies of blue and clouds of white the bright blessed day the dark sacred night and i think to myself what a wonderful world the colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky are also on the faces of people going by i see friends shaking hands saying how do you do they’re really saying i love you see the morning light awake new beginnings it’s a beautiful day all around new mercies wait every moment is a movement of grace the world comes alive you have opened my eyes everything i see is in colour no more black and white because i’ve seen the light everything i see is in colour my life is coloured by your love full of patience full of kindness enough the sorrows of my yesterday are forgotten with joyful sounds of praise the world comes alive you have opened my eyes everything i see is in colour no more black and white because i’ve seen the light everything i see is in colour the world is alive in you i am alive

speckled flecks of unknown origin stardust, sunflares shine like a beacon hair highlighted yellow in the rays of the light wind giving lift, giving flight, giving life

stars in your multitudes scarce to be counted filling the darkness with order and light you are the sentienels silent and sure keeping watch in the night you know your place in the sky you hold your course and your aim and each your season returns and returns and is always the same so it must be for so it is written on the doorway to paradise i see trees of green red roses too i see them bloom for me and you and i think to myself what a wonderful world i see skies of blue and clouds of white the bright blessed day the dark sacred night and i think to myself what a wonderful world the colors

the simplicity of reading a book on a sofano worries no stresses just a new personaa subtle adventure, a whirlwind romancethe spellbinding power of textual dance

I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had losts of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding onto something. There’s some good in this world. And it’s worth fightnig for.

We shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started. But I suppose it’s often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were the things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually - their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on - and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not ouside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same. But those aren’t always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of tale we’ve fallen into?

I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had losts of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding onto something. There’s some good in this world. And it’s worth fightnig for.

We shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started. But I suppose it’s often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were the things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually - their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on - and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not ouside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same. But those aren’t always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of tale we’ve fallen into?

the retold chronicle of an unwritten pagestory given meaning by one’s own stagefable and fantasy, memoir and mythlegend and tale and all that goes with

he began filling the silence with words. he lured them out of the pages as if they had only been waiting for his voice, words long and short, words sharp and soft, cooing, purring words. they danced through the room, painting stained glass pictures, tickling the skin. even when she nodded off she could still hear them, although he had closed the book long ago. words that explained the world to her, its dark side and its light side, words that built a wall to keep out bad dreams. and not a single bad dream came over that wall for the rest of the night.

our lesson in cadence has reached its peak, now to finish off rhythm and beat each pulse is different, the flow oft does change, tis not what something is but how it’s arranged