In the new quiet I heard the sea as if my ears were laid against the ocean floor. I could hear everything. The rumbling earthquake of a ship and the spider crabs moving between weeds.
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In the new quiet I heard the sea as if my ears were laid against the ocean floor. I could hear everything. The rumbling earthquake of a ship and the spider crabs moving between weeds.
This whole city's [D.C.'s] a Freudian slip of the tongue, a concrete hard-on for America's deeds and misdeeds.
So too rose the language and music of urban America that sprang from the blues that came with the migrants and dominates our airwaves to this day.