| When we go downtown, she leads me toward music. It really doesn't matter what kind of music, she just wants the feel of it: the beat, the tempo. Sometimes it's street musicians, playing some jazz riffs, sometimes an impromptu steel drum group, it varies.
If there is music coming out of the front door of a club, she will want to hang there, on the sidewalk and soak in some of the notes, but she shakes her head when I lean towards the door-she doesn't want to swim in it, she just wants to put her toes in a little.
We can be walking to/from a parking lot to a little Greek restaurant and if some kids' Boombox on the corner has a song she likes, she will stand there and close her eyes and jam with it a little while. People walk by and look at her as if she is high-which she is, but not in the way most people get there. If you didn't know her, you might think she was glossy eyed all the time-that's her nature. She squeezes my hand when she is ready to move on. Its a kind of "thanks for letting me lose myself" kind of thing. As if I would mind, as if I would move her along. I'm lucky to be holding her hand as she strolls through the traffic. She finds diamonds in gravel pits and rainbows in salvage yards. Who am I to complain? | 
