The Savoy
If ever a heaven could have been real.
I want to feel the heat of hundreds of people crammed into a single room,
each of them determinedly attempting to perfect the art of feeling that their twisting, shaking bodies so instinctually express.
I want to hear the deafening whines of an ebony clarinet, the analyzing tinkling of the ivories, the triumphant roar of the horn, each vying with one another, not in competition, but in enthusiasm, as their union echoes into the rafters, and its refrain is celebrated into the night.
I want to stand in a room of elegant progression, and see the creaky floorboards, a testament to the shattered ideals of segregation, and know what it is to be joined together in the brotherhood of music that transcends both hatred and mortality.
I don't want to be the legend. I only want to witness it for myself, to know what it was to be near something so real.
