I sit on stage, in the darkness behind the wall of lights.
The light blinds me to my audience.
I see my lines scrolling down from on high in the darkness behind my eyes, the darkness in my mind. Chords scroll sequentially from one side of the stage to the other as my fingers hit the fret board. My mouth opens, and I adjust my voice to the appropriate pitch for each line, each word. I’m the perfect accompaniment to the old man who plays and sings beside me.
Then he reaches over, touches the back of my head.