One day I met a music MAker. We blew up time zones and border crossings with our souls. Then, a walk across a sewage line. Next, shared whiskey and a straggler from Bushwick. Some snow. Invisible letters. Tree bark saved up for words. Lots of stamps. Some singing. A uke. Guitar strings. A blur of sounds. This song.
http://mamarina.bandcamp.com/album/change-of-address-ft-aimee-herman
Aimee Herman 