catroar: your father must be brilliant (and reading this, it's as if I can hear how tenderly he sang to you). come to think of it, terrapin has something of the feel of a lullaby...which never struck me before, but it should have. it is wonderfully unhurried (as gangastar suggests)
syd's creative process seems almost as if it sprung from what might (uncharitably) be called an inability to keep one's mind on the point. he starts off simply struggling to put into words how much he loves her: "my hair's on end about you," which is lovely. then he goes off on a tangent about fish, and it's perfect...as if he planned it that way. maybe he did; somehow I doubt it.
catroar: your father must be brilliant (and reading this, it's as if I can hear how tenderly he sang to you). come to think of it, terrapin has something of the feel of a lullaby...which never struck me before, but it should have. it is wonderfully unhurried (as gangastar suggests)
syd's creative process seems almost as if it sprung from what might (uncharitably) be called an inability to keep one's mind on the point. he starts off simply struggling to put into words how much he loves her: "my hair's on end about you," which is lovely. then he goes off on a tangent about fish, and it's perfect...as if he planned it that way. maybe he did; somehow I doubt it.