Maybe it is just because of the cloudy sky, the nice temperature, and the soft but not too cold, not too warm breeze. Or maybe just because of an already forgotten dream from the previous night. There are some days, it is maybe the first one here, that make me think about the term Faraway eyes, as if my mind was wandering in a flight through far away skies over plains that extend as far as the horizon. Memories of similar moments, maybe in America, come back to me, and I feel wrapped up with a feeling of comfort and reunion. As if I was walking with somebody by my side all the time.
These are ideal days then to listen to some music of Steve Earle, or Marah, or from the record I cannot stop listening lately of Elliot Brood: a fair dose of melancholic songs, but very uplifting at the same time. Ah, a harmonica is a strict requirement.
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